Wanderer
by Sage Pagan
Summary: I'm tired of seeing Xiao stories. It's time for Julia to come to light. After a chance encounter with the haunted Jin Kazama, Julia finds herself falling in love despite Michelle's warnings. Julia's life story.
1. Michelle's Daughter

I can't stand it anymore. I need to write. **It's time to start over**. Even though all of my other stories are gone, it's time for me to begin new things. It might take me much longer to update, but at least I'm writing.

I'll start off with this story, a story based upon Julia Chang's life, my favorite female Tekken character. Why her? She seems overly obsessed with nature and so bland and ordinary. Well…not to me. There are too many stories out there with Ling Xiaoyu and I'm tired of seeing the same ideas getting recycled over and over again with her. Now that I notice this, I think Lonely Heart is the only story I'll ever write with her as a main character. I'd like to see more Nina, Julia, and Asuka stories. So, now I'm focusing on Julia Chang.

In my story, Julia is Michelle's biological daughter, and she also isn't overly obsessed about nature. Namco is way too stereotypical when it comes to her, 'cause Native Americans aren't always all about nature and feathers in their hair, so I'll be sure to change that.

Have you guys read _Love Found_? It's one of my stories with Julia in it, and unfortunately I had to delete it, so now nobody gets to read it if interested. Anyway, I mention this because this is Julia's story before the events of _Love Found_. However, if you haven't read it, then don't worry, it's not necessary. It's just an FYI for my fans who _have _read it.

So, enjoy. Hopefully you won't judge my story based upon what characters/pairings are in it. I'd rather you judge my story based upon my writing style, and I'm always open to constructive criticism. Hope you enjoy it. Don't forget to review if you can!

**Note**: Later on the story will be very Julia x Jin and if you knew me better, you'd know that _I dislike this pairin_g, but I'm making them together because it's **necessary**. If you have a problem, don't read this story. I don't need flames. In my opinion, Julia and Jin make a rather bland couple, and Julia and Hwoarang should be together. Also, Jin was meant for Ling. Ok, I'll shut up. Now to the story…

* * *

**Michelle's Daughter**

Everyday I thank the Gods and spirits that I live the life I do now. I don't know what I would have done if my life had not changed the way it had.

I wonder what it could have been like if I'd never met Hwoarang. I wonder what life could have been like if my mother had never been murdered, if I'd never met Jin Kazama, if I'd never left Arizona in the first place, if I'd never learned the arts of combat that has taught me the world's violent ways…

In the end all my choices have brought me here to this place, where I am finally at peace. In the end, it has molded me into the person I am today. Here, in happiness, I may enclose myself in my own world and forget the dark shadows of my past. I may only murmur words of love, utter only laughter, and never have to worry about sorrow or anger. Some say the only way goodness can be born is through suffering. And yes, I have suffered. But it was worthwhile I guess, because it helped me achieve joy in the end.

It was years ago, back when I had no place to go, back when I was a mere, innocent child ignorant of the world. My mother and her tribe were all that I knew. As a child, I was quiet, mature for my age, smarter than most, (I must sound conceited, but I state only facts) but still innocent all the same. To me, the sun always smiled, the summer breeze seemed always to whisper with laughter. But later, as I grew, for the first time I felt the sun's vicious burn and the violent howl of the wind. I did not yet understand that there was a light and darkness to everything, that life wasn't just all about my mother's embraces and little birthday gifts.

I felt that, even wrapped up in my mother's loving arms, that she wasn't telling me everything. There was something out there waiting for me. My heart has always been a wanderer, always seeking new things, curious, free-spirited…however, I led a pretty ordinary life.

That is, until I met Jin Kazama while in college. At the time I didn't know who he was…wait, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Yes, I was born on a cool spring morning in the heart of Arizona; I was named, raised, and loved. But I think my life truly began when I took that first step onto Mexican soil when I was twenty…again, I'm getting ahead of myself.

This is my life.

**Michelle**

"What is to be her name?"

Cora, my older sister, looks down at the baby in my arms, the turquoise beads of the Navajo slung loosely about her neck and wrists.

"Ajijawk," I sighed as I gazed down into my daughter's serene face. She was so beautiful when she slept, and even more so when her eyes were open, gazing up at me with that cool stare.

"Crane…it somehow suits her, Michelle, though it is a popular name among our people," Cora remarked.

"Yes, it fits her well. She has brought me hope and joy."

"But…she was born in a white man's world, Sister. Even though our people have been here for hundreds of years before the white demons ever came, this land is now under their rule."

"Land cannot be ruled, or bought…" I muttered, feeling the familiar bitterness throb in my chest.

"It is useless, Michelle. Hundred-year old bitterness will get you nowhere. Our ancestors have already failed to convince the white man of this. My point is you should give your daughter an Americanized name also."

"_Anglo_, you mean," I hissed, spitting out the word.

Cora hesitated. "Yes. It will be easier for her in the future. The white man's tongues are thick and heavy, and they do not utter our language, and refuse to speak any other but their own. You should pity them."

"What use have they of my pity? Why don't they give _their_ children Navajo names too?" I murmured, my voice laced with bitterness.

"Michelle," Cora said grimly, ignoring my last remark.

I sighed. My sister was right. "I knew you would do this, but you're right. I've been thinking...I like…Julia."

"Joo-lee-aa. Julia? Why not Jessica, or Katherine?"

"Common names. Ordinary, bland."

"…or maybe Christina? Alicia?" Cora persisted.

"Julia," I said firmly.

Cora thought for a moment, gazing down at my daughter. Slowly, she nodded in consent. I knew she'd agree with me eventually.

"I guess so. You are talented with names, Michelle. Again, this name seems to fit," she stated.

I smiled down at my sleeping child cradled in my arms. Gently, I kissed her forehead.

"Yes, my little Crane. My Julia…"

* * *

Julia had barely reached her fourth month when my lover (no he wasn't my husband) decided to abandon us. He had stayed for three months just to keep up some of his reputation for impregnating me before marriage…but it seems now that he'd had enough.

"Han, you can't do this! We have a daughter," I protested. I did not even have the strength to raise my voice. The sadness and disappointment was far too great.

"We're not even married, Michelle," Han murmured.

"That's because you refused me! I wanted, and still want, to marry you," I sobbed. I'd wanted so much to marry this man. What a stupid, naïve little girl I was, and now he was going to abandon our three-month old daughter and me.

Han bowed his head and pressed his lips together. Han Liu was a beautiful man, and when we'd met in Beijing I thought I'd met my match. I'd been visiting my father in Hong Kong at the time, and when Han had later impregnated me, I'd decided at the last moment to have Julia born in my mother's native lands: Arizona. I thought everything was going perfectly, that Han would propose, we'd raise Julia together…I guess I was wrong. I was wrong about many things. He had blessed me with a beautiful daughter, but that was the only good thing about my lover at the moment.

Seething with self-loathing and sorrow, I could only weep silently as Han refused to meet my gaze. Damn him. Damn _myself_, I who refuse to stop loving him even now! I had thought that I could finally start a family, young as I was. I was only twenty, and I don't know why I ever let Han take advantage of me.

"Why are you leaving?" I asked again for what seemed like the hundredth time. My voice ached with desperation, and I hated myself some more for sounding so weak and dependent. Were all these tears for my child or for my own selfish reasons? Yes, Julia needed her father…but I also didn't want to be alone.

"My family needs me in China," was his lame excuse, and finally the fury I had suppressed came rushing forth.

"No! You're family is _here_, with your daughter and me. You're going to stay and be a father to her, goddammit! I already know that your heart feels no love for me, but don't you dare leave your own child!" I cried.

Han tried to disguise the look of distaste as he gazed down at Julia in the crib, but I saw right through his flimsy façade. He was going to leave no matter what I said. He was that cold of a man, and for the first time in my two years of dating him, I finally saw the true nature of the man I had fallen for. No, he wasn't a man at all. Just a foolish boy who hadn't been able to keep his pants zipped.

After this realization came the shame. I should have known better…

"Is it because I'm half Navajo, Han? Is that it? I'm not pure enough for you?" I growled.

"It's not that," he sighed without looking at me.

I was the daughter of a Navajo woman and a Chinese man. An odd mix, but I'd always been proud of my heritage. No doubt it made me somewhat of an outsider, but my Navajo family accepted me nonetheless. That's one of the greatest aspects of the Native American peoples: they will love you no matter what, pale skinned or dark. Just as long as you had a good, kind heart, the exterior never mattered.

After calming down slightly, I whispered, "Is it because Julia is a girl, Han?"

I had heard that in China girls were seen as inferior, disrespected, and often times discarded or put up for adoption after birth. I would never understand it. What difference does it make if a man and woman have a daughter or son?

Han does not answer, but he does not deny my inquiry either.

"Have you met a woman? In China?" I asked, the tears taking form behind my eyes.

Again, he is silent, and again he doesn't deny my words.

"I'm leaving in the morning," was his grim reply, and for the last time those dark eyes I had fallen in love with looked into mine. There was nothing but emptiness in his irises. Glassy, porcelain-doll eyes, cold…

And so I had no choice but to raise my daughter alone, and I knew that sooner or later, my little crane would wonder why she didn't have a dad like everyone else. And it was my job to make it as painless as possible when I told her that he'd betrayed us.

**Six years later…**

Julia had taken it well. When she was five she asked where Daddy had gone, why there was no man in the house like all of her peers. And I told her the truth, never lied or sugarcoated anything. If I'd lied, my daughter could always see through it all anyway. I hate lying, especially to my own kid, so when I started crying, Julia took me into her stubby arms and apologized.

"Don't cry, Ama. I'm so sorry I made you cry. But don't worry! We're a team. We don't need Daddy anymore," she had said once and then scampered outside again to play. She never mentioned her father again, not because she truly didn't care, but only for my sake.

Juliahadn't shed one tear, though after that day, and for the years onward, I would catch my daughter staring enviously at her neighbors' fathers…but she was too strong and proud to admit any of her desires.

Cora had suggested that I give Julia a Chinese name, to remind Julia of the other half of her heritage, but I refused, even though I was half Chinese myself. She would have no part of that man, except for that small portion of his blood he'd put into her veins, a part that could not be helped. I was relieved when she'd chosen to take my last name too.

"Keep your fists closed, little one," I murmured as I helped Julia regain her balance and find the correct formation.

Since she was five I've been training her in the martial arts, as I was trained in. A woman should always be able to defend herself, and Julia is already showing signs of intelligence, young as she is. After she has mastered her fists, she will learn to use her tongue as well to defend herself and stand up for what is right. Julia is not strong enough yet, but her technique flourishes, and I love to see her eyebrows all scrunched up in fierce concentration. She has always sought to please me, and my heart throbbed with love for her. Han's betrayal no longer hurt so much, and all that mattered now was raising my child in the right way.

Julia had taken mostly after me, which I was grateful for, though I'd love my daughter in any form she took. I just didn't want to be reminded of the man who'd deserted us six years ago. Her hair was long, dark, smooth, hair that would make any Native American woman proud. Her skin was golden, not the usual dark tan of the Navajo, and her mouth was full. Julia's eyes were as dark as her father's though I saw no emptiness within them as I had seen in Han's. She was so full of life, beautiful, and extremely shy. The only time Julia ever spoke freely was when she was either with me, her Aunt Cora, or her cousin Gabriel, Cora's son.

Julia liked to explore nature, such as the deep gorges and canyons in Arizona, or linger in the ancient caves, curious, always sending me into a frenzy looking for her by the end of the day, but she always knew the way home. She liked to read too, and paint, and I often worried if she had enough friends. Julia didn't mind being alone, although sometimes I heard her praying for a friend when she thought I wasn't listening.

And, even though she was one of the top students in her grade, my little crane suffered in school. Her companions (though never her Navajo peers) bullied her, jeering, "Little half breed", "Julia has no father, what a disgrace", and mercilessly taunted her about her "tainted blood."

The school had called me one day, a day when Julia hadn't come home on time. I'd driven there in a panic, wondering what had happened. And there my little girl sat, looking so small in the principal's leather chair, a look of suppressed fury on her usually calm face, her mouth set in a harsh line.

"Ms. Chang, I'm glad you're here. We're here to discuss your daughter's behavior today," the principal had drawled smoothly as she'd fixed her glasses on her nose.

"Julia is a good child. What did she do?" I'd asked. This was the first time (but not the last) that Julia had been in the principal's office.

The principal glared at me, then forced her face to relax.

"She kicked a boy in his—ah, groin, and gave a girl a bloody nose."

Julia was getting into fights now? But I knew my daughter. She was always peaceful, and would never initiate a fight. I knew without even asking Julia that my daughter had only been defending herself.

"Tell me, Principal Jenson, did these children happen to call my child any names? Julia would never start trouble," I said slowly.

"The boy said that he had only wanted to play with Julia when she all of a sudden kicked him," the principal said, ignoring my inquiry.

Usually quiet when angered, Julia suddenly reared up and in her high-pitched, six-year-old voice, shrieked, "He's a liar! He called me a freak because I'm half Chinese and half Navajo!"

"Settle down, Aji," I murmured and Julia immediately quieted. Her face turned pink though from holding in her fury.

"I suggest you apologize to the boy and to the girl, Julia," said the principal.

"Excuse me, unless you have proof that my child started this ordeal, Julia is apologizing to no one."

"Ms. Chang—"

"I will talk to Julia, but I am highly displeased with this school system for failing to protect my child," I stated, my voice going dangerously soft.

"Well, ah, Ms. Chang, we—"

"Have a nice day, Ms. Jenson."

Julia hadn't said a word to me until we reached the car.

"You believe me, Ama?" she asked in awe, her eyes round. **(A/N: Ama means mother)**

"Of course. I'll always believe you. I know you're a good girl and you'd never do such a thing," I replied as I placed her backpack at her feet, then shut the door.

"It's a good thing you are teaching me to fight, because that boy stood no chance against me. Boy, you shoulda seen the look on his face when I kicked him!" she crowed, a smile breaking on her face.

"Now, now, Jules, don't act like that. Yes, it was in self-defense, but you must never take pleasure in someone else's pain, alright? We fight to protect Mother Earth, not to destroy," I reprimanded softly.

"It was only a playground fight, Ama. I was not harming Mother Earth," Julia explained softly.

"I know. But remember that anyway, ok?"

"Okay," Julia said quietly.

But when she was gazing out the window, I smiled to myself. That little jerk deserved that kick in his crotch.

* * *

My own mother, Vivian Chang, is long dead. And from her trunk of belongings I remove one of the most sacred objects of my tribe.

The medallion gleams golden in my grasp, the thin chain tinkling softly as it moves between my fingers. The gold is slightly faded, dulled, but the ancient inscriptions and designs are still there…and as long as it was readable, as long as this medallion was in existence, I wouldn't ever be truly safe. And if I wasn't safe, then neither was Julia, who was only six.

"You have not touched that thing for years, Sister."

Cora lingers in the doorway, a basket of laundry in her arms.

I clutch the medallion to my chest and swallow hard. "Heihachi still covets it, doesn't he? As does Kazuya?"

My sister sets down the basket and comes to where I sit.

"Yes. But it has been seven years, Michelle, and they have left you alone," she said, trying to ease my restless mind.

I shake my head. "Perhaps…or maybe they are just waiting for the best time to attack, as a rattler prepares for its perfect strike upon the prey…"

"You shouldn't think like that, Michelle," Cora said softly, though there was doubt in her voice.

Both of us just sat there, staring down at the medallion. Seven years ago, I'd entered the second Iron Fist Tournament, hoping to find my father who'd suddenly disappeared. However, instead of a simple martial arts competition, I'd found myself trapped in a world of evil and secrets. It was not until Heihachi and Kazuya had tried to kidnap me did I learn of the true purpose of the medallion, which had been in my tribe for several generations. Supposedly, this medallion was the key to a great treasure, and the Mishimas desired it. I'd heard nothing of such a treasure, but if there indeed was one, then it belonged to the Navajo and the land only, not to some greedy Japanese bastards.

I'd also heard that the Devil blood flowed in Kazuya's veins, clouding his humanity and goodness. Rumor also said that the God of Fighting, known to others as "Ogre," would come, transforming myth into reality. My people believed fiercely in this God of Fighting, feared it, and I did not want him here, not when I'd just begun to raise my daughter. Julia could not be reared in a land riddled with hatred and evil.

Then, I said to my sister, "I heard Kazuya was involved with Jun Kazama."

Cora raised her head in interest. "That environmentalist woman, right? She seems nice enough. She loves the land as we do."

"Sure she does. But I'd heard something else too."

Cora waited for me to continue.

"I heard she bore Kazuya a child, a son, just a year before Julia was born."

My sister sighed, bored. "So what? Women have kids all the time."

"You don't understand. He is only a year older than Julia, and it's possible that he may carry the Devil's blood within him like his father does. And, Heihachi and Kazuya are interested in my medallion…"

"And…?" Cora still didn't get it.

"And later on, if we aren't careful, Jun and Kazuya's son could get involved with Julia, as his grandfather was involved with me. I can't let that happen, Cora. The Mishimas are cursed, and God forbid they hurt my daughter."

"Do not worry, Michelle. Neither Heihachi nor Kazuya's son will ever lay a hand on Julia," Cora insisted.

I was not so sure.

"I wish I could believe you, Cora. Let us just hope that little Julia will never get entangled into the Mishima's web of deceit."

And for the oncoming years, I desperately shielded Julia from the Mishimas. But there would come a time when my daughter would have to learn to fend for herself, and that left her vulnerable to whatever Heihachi and Kazuya planned.

But, I didn't know until much too late that it wasn't Heihachi or Kazuya Mishima that I should have worried about.

For in the hidden sanctuary of Yakushima forest, Jun Kazama also raised her child alone, as I did in Arizona…

* * *

**So, what do you guys think? Boring? Yeah, it will be a little bit in the beginning. Your feedback is appreciated though! **


	2. Path of the Warrior

**Hey guys sorry it took me so long to update. Anyway, hope this chapter isn't too bland or anything. Please read and review.**

* * *

**Path of the Warrior**

Eight years later…

**Julia**

"Haiii-yaa!" I shouted as I launched an uppercut underneath Gabe's chin.

My sixteen-year-old cousin staggered backward clumsily, his eyes blinking fiercely, trying to keep focus, and I knew that I'd been too fast for him to react. But instead of getting angry or going crazy like most of my male opponents, my cousin only sighed and shook his head. Then, Gabe smiled slightly and wiped a grimy hand across his sweaty brow.

"Damn, Jules! You're only fourteen, and you kick all our butts," he gasped, holding his knees and then massaging his jaw.

"Hey, sorry 'bout that, Gabe. I didn't mean to hit so hard," I apologized, bending down to see to my cousin's well being.

Gabe Red-Hawk was my Aunt Cora's youngest son, and we'd grown up together. He was like an _anaai_ to me—like a brother. We'd both trained under my mother and two other martial artist leaders of the Navajo, and though he was bigger and stronger, I defeated him in sparring every time.

"It's no fair. A coyote can't win against a crane!" he joked, giving my two braids a slight tug.

I swatted his hand away with a smile and sipped my water. It was sweltering out, slightly cooler than yesterday, but still hot all the same. I'd grown used to the Arizona heat, actually learned to enjoy it, but sparring underneath its sun was torture.

At only fourteen, I could beat every boy training with me in my neighborhood. Cliché? Yeah, but it's the truth. They hated it, and I secretly took pride in wounding their massive egos. Girls could be just as good as boys; I'd proven that time and time again. To the boys in my neighborhood (and maybe in general, who knows), power came in brute strength and how big their biceps bulged when flexed. To me, power and victory came from strategy and speed—and that's why I won all the time.

The only person I couldn't beat was my mother, Michelle, who always saw right through my moves, knew exactly what to expect and how to counter it. I should have expected it, her being much better than me, but I still got frustrated. Why wasn't I as good as my own mother, who had taught me herself? I should be at her skill level at the least!

Often I would get angry when she reprimanded me for making mistakes, but that only made me more determined. At first Mom had been encouraging, gentle, but now that I was older, stronger, quicker, her words became ruthless, her compliments more and more rare, and she pounded that discipline into me like turquoise into a silver ring. It didn't matter if I was her daughter. She treated me the same way she treated her other martial arts students.

I wiped the sweat off my brow and took up my dagger, unsheathing it from its brown leather scabbard. It was a fine knife, and I was proud of it since I'd made it myself. Not only was Michelle training me in martial arts, but she was also teaching me the ways my ancestors once hunted and fought. I was taught spear throwing, which I absolutely hated, but I excelled at archery. However, my specialty was fist fighting, and I was often reluctant to practice my spear throwing.

"This is what our people did before us, and we must never forget them. We can be no one if we don't first respect our roots," Michelle had once told me.

"But what am I going to do with wooden spears, Mother? Now we have rifles and sniper guns!" I'd joked.

It had been the wrong thing to say. Michelle was angry with me for a while after that.

She overwhelmed me with my ancestor's ways. If martial arts, spears, archery, and knives weren't already enough, Michelle insisted I learn shamanism too.

So, just because I loved my mother and respected her word, I sat for two and a half hours listening to my village shaman, Ya Ats'os **(A/N: Sky feather)**, talk about spirits, demons, herbs, and other things I was only slightly interested in. Yeah, like every other Indian, I believe in the spirit world. I've even had visions before (when I was too young to remember), and I adore nature (who couldn't?). But to choose shamanism as a way of life? Not for me.

Ya Ats'os had created some sand paintings (we Navajo are known for them) explaining the stars and the way the world was born or whatever. That was probably the only highlight of my lesson because I'd liked all the funky colors the sands came in. After all, I'm an artist. How did she always find these colors? I never knew sand could be that vibrant a blue or that deep a red.

Afterwards, Ya Ats'os gently took my face between her strong brown hands. Her wise, gray eyes saw right through me, and my face burned. She smiled, and stated, "Do not fret, my child. Every one of us has a path in life, and I sense that this is not yours."

I bowed my head in shame and embarrassment. "I am sorry, Grandmother. Your craft is very valuable to us, and I apologize for not listening closer."

"No need for apologies, Ajijawk. My craft is slowly becoming insignificant during this era. People do not believe like they used to. I know you believe, I'm not saying you don't, but—I have seen you fight. You are a warrior, not a shaman. Go now, Julia."

"Are you sure, Grandmother? I can stay here." I felt so bad I was willing to sacrifice a few more hours just to listen to her drone on about more spirit crap.

The shamaness smiled and patted my head as if I was five and not fourteen.

"Do not feel guilty, Ajijawk. There are plenty of potential shamans out there. Times are changing. During our ancestors' time, women and girls like you weren't allowed to fight or wield any kind of weapon besides a scraping knife for cleaning animal hides. But, unlike many people, you know who you are, my little warrior. Go now," she said gently.

And so ended any hope of my becoming a shaman, to my relief. I gave up on shamanism and instead concentrated on honing my martial arts skills and focused on getting A's in school.

However, I wouldn't learn until much later that my rejection of shamanism would be a choice I'd regret in the future.

* * *

School would start in a couple days, and I carefully organized my backpack to make sure everything was there. It would be my first day of high school, but I wasn't too scared. High school to me was just another step to my real goal: college. I pity those people who actually think high school is the highlight of their lives, people like the ditzy, superficial, blue-eyed preppy girls who load their eyes with shadow and cling onto boys like magnets. It's disgusting. I'll never understand that mentality. 

As I flipped through my books I wondered, like every girl, if I'd get a boyfriend in high school. It's more a curiosity thing than a necessity; no matter how much I fantasized about a love life, that's just a petty little desire at the back of my mind. My primary goal for the moment was to get straight A's first, like I'd always gotten in middle school. Then again, middle school had been too easy. Would high school be?

Earlier, before school enrollment, Mom had actually asked me if I'd wanted to be home-schooled. Was she crazy? No way in hell was I gonna be home-schooled. It would only be a burden on Michelle, no matter how much she loved me, and if I were to stay at home all the time, it would just drive me crazy. I'd remain forever ignorant of the outside world, void of a social life, and always dependent on my mother. I have no idea what my mom is trying to protect me from by home-schooling me. It's not like I can't defend myself. I'm a good fighter, and a nasty debater.

As I was looking through the fridge for a snack, there came a sudden, thunderous knock on the front door. Didn't the guy know how to use a doorbell? The second knock shook the door so hard I was sure it would break.

I closed the fridge gently, and with a sigh, went to answer the door. "I'm _coming_, just hold on."

After unlocking the door I swung it open, and my eyes widened as I took a glance at my visitor. After a second I composed myself and forced my laughter to the back of my throat. I've always been good at concealing my true emotions.

Before me stood the biggest, fattest man I'd ever laid eyes on. He'd managed to squeeze himself into a T-shirt, and I was afraid that if he took another step the button on his shorts would fly off. He had a wide mouth, dark eyes, and his bald head shined in the Arizona sunlight; he looked absolutely ridiculous. He was Asian, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Don't get me wrong: I don't discriminate against obese people, against anyone different for that fact, but something about this man was off.

"Hello," I greeted calmly, "can I help you?"

"Uh, hi. Is this the Chang residence?" he rumbled deeply. There was a hint of an accent to his voice, and I wondered what language he spoke.

"Yes it is. What can I do for you?" I replied politely.

The man's face turned a dark shade of crimson and I wondered why.

"I'm looking for Michelle Chang. Is she here?"

"Yeah. Hold on," I said, and called out for my mother. Soon after, Michelle came running down the stairs and peered at the guest outside.

My mother's face darkened and the polite smile she'd prepared fell from her face. Her mouth curled slightly and her eyes narrowed. I'd never seen her look that way before.

Suddenly she seized the door and would have successfully slammed it if the visitor had not stopped it with one meaty hand.

"Wait! Michelle! Listen to me!" he pleaded, and my mother struggled to close the door.

"How—many—times—do I have to—tell you to just—_leave me alone_!" she exclaimed, still fighting to shut the door.

They knew each other obviously, and I had no idea what was going on. I didn't know which one to help either. Should I help my mom shut the door, or should I be polite and ask the guy to come in? This fat man seemed fairly harmless after all. He looked like he could barely walk with that massive body, so how could he possibly hurt us?

Then a strange thought entered my mind: was he my father? I'm half Asian after all…oh my God. Could I possibly be related to him?

As my mom continued struggling to close the door, I peered out to the stranger, and his beady black eyes met mine. Well, he sure didn't _look_ like me at all, but it was worth a try.

"Dad?" I asked, hoping that he was anything but my father.

"Huh?" he replied, and I felt relieved. But then, to my disgust, he added, "I wish."

And _then_ I understood. This crazy idiot was in love with my mom. Stalker much? By the looks of my mom struggling to keep him out, that was probably the case. So, without thinking twice, I cocked my arm back and slammed my elbow into his nose. The fat man stumbled back, his eyes unfocused, his hands clutching at his broken nose, and Michelle finally succeeded in shutting the door.

My mother was breathing heavily and I wasn't sure if it was from rage or exhaustion. I bent down to look at her, and I brushed her bangs back from her face.

"Ama? Are you ok?" I asked quietly.

She nodded slightly. "If you ever see him again, don't talk to him, don't even look at him. And don't _ever _open the door to him again."

"Um…ok. But who is he? Is he in love with you?" I asked, peering out the window. The fat man was still sprawled on the ground after my attack.

"Ugh. His name is Ganryu, and he's had a crush on me since I was eighteen. I can't believe he found me!" she cried, her fists clenching.

"That bad huh?" I asked.

"Yes. We'd met during a martial arts tournament and ever since then he wouldn't leave me alone. He—ugh!"

"He's not my dad?"

Michelle looked up at me as if I was insane. "I'd kill myself first."

We both burst out laughing and after hugging my mom, I helped her to her feet.

"Well, thank the spirits for that. He's still out there though…" I said, looking out the window again, slightly nervous. He could easily smash a window, or break down our door…

"Don't worry; he'll leave eventually. Just don't give him more attention than he's already got," Michelle huffed.

But, to our distress, the man named Ganryu came back, and this time he kept knocking. The door screamed under his fists, and my mother finally, reluctantly, opened the door.

"What," she snarled, her hands keeping a firm grip on the doorknob, and I watched safely from the stairs.

"Michelle, please. Just listen to me—" Ganryu pleaded.

"About how much you love me and want me? Heard it already. Buh-bye."

"No, wait! It's not about that!"

"Really? Then please, enlighten me."

Ganryu sighed heavily and scratched the top of his bald head.

"I came here to talk to you about Jun Kazama," he explained.

My mother became silent and I could almost see her eyes narrowing in interest.

"What about her?" my mother murmured.

"I'll tell you once you let me in."

"I'm not negotiating with you."

"Then I'll leave."

My mother hesitated, fury in her eyes, but she eventually opened the door fully and stepped aside for the large man to enter.

"What do you have to tell me?" she asked softly, her arms crossed.

Ganryu, a slight smile breaking on his face, shamelessly took in his surroundings.

"Nice place you have, Michelle," he stated, and then my mother grabbed his shirt collar. My eyes widened suddenly; I've never seen her this hostile. There was a fire in her that hadn't been there before, and I noticed how Ganryu's eyes widened in shock. How is my mother like in real danger, when she has to release her full potential? Somehow I didn't really want to see her fight in that kind of situation."Stop this bull crap, Ganryu. Tell me what you came here to say," she growled, and shoved him back as she released his collar.

The large man stifled his smile and smoothed his ruffled shirt back into place. His face turned grim and he began.

"Michelle…you do know that Jun has been living in Yakushima Forest, in Japan?"

"Yes, and she raised her son with her there, get on with it."

"And her daughter, three years later."

"Daughter? Jun has a daughter?"

"Yes, but that's beside the point. Jun was killed two weeks ago by a raging forest fire, and her fifteen-year-old son is nowhere to be found. Jun's body, or her remains, weren't recovered."

"Well of course not, it was a forest fire. She'd be nothing but powder now."

Ganryu blushed with this logic, and I rolled my eyes.

"That poor woman," my mother murmured, and I thought I saw a gleam of fear in her eyes. Why? We had no relations to this Jun Kazama anyway. She was now one with the spirits and the earth. Death was only another path to another life. So why did my mom look so frightened over a stranger's death?

Although I had no idea what this story could possibly mean, I leaned in and listened.

"What's even more strange is that investigators don't know the source of the fire. Some say they found traces of a green substance on a few trees and plants. It may have been the blood of some animal—but what animal has green blood, right?" Ganryu continued, and my mother's face turned pale.

"Why are you saying this?" she whispered.

"Michelle…I know it may sound stupid but many think that the legendary God of Fighting has finally surfaced."

God of Fighting? What? Was this Ganryu insane or something? That was just a silly Native American myth, a bedtime story used to frighten little children when they were misbehaving. I shook my head in disbelief; it was like saying Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy existed. However, I swallowed my laughter the moment I saw the look of utter fear on my mother's face.

"If you are right, if the God of Fighting is indeed here…then what? Why should I worry?" my mother murmured slowly.

What? She actually believed this fairytale crap? I listened anyway.

Ganryu sighed and he took his time answering.

"Everyone should worry, Michelle. According to the authorities, three people, two men and a woman are missing, the woman being Jun Kazama."

"Three? That's no big deal. The cops can find three people easily," my mother whispered, but her voice reeked of uncertainty.

"No, Michelle. You see, they shared one thing in common: they were all some of the world's greatest fighters. All of this occurred within a year, the most recent being two weeks ago—Jun's death."

Michelle shook her head.

"Believe it, Michelle. The God of Fighting, or 'Ogre' as some call the creature, chooses his victims carefully."

"No. It's just a coincidence. People go missing all the time. Forest fires happen all the time," my mother muttered, still shaking her head and trying to convince herself that Ganryu's words were insignificant.

"You know as well as I do that this is too big a coincidence. With every fighter he kills, Ogre gets stronger. And you, Michelle, are one of those great fighters. He may come for you next."

"But what about Julia?"

"I don't know about your daughter. I don't think she's strong enough for Ogre to be interested in her. But without you at her side—Julia will suffer Michelle. You have to be careful."

Michelle nodded and ran a trembling hand through her long hair.

"Also, with all of these events happening so quickly, the next Iron Fist tournament is going to be held in about four years. Heihachi worries about his grandson, and seeks to destroy this Ogre for himself...either that, or capture him and use him for his own intentions."

"Four years! That's too long! Why doesn't he do something about it _now_?" my mother cried.

"I'm not sure. Rumor says that he'll be using that time to train so his odds are better against Ogre, but who knows. The man's crazy."

"This is too much. Thank you Ganryu, but I think it's time for you to go," my mother murmured and she opened the door for him.

Ganryu nodded sadly and forced a small smile to his mouth.

"It was nice seeing you again, Michelle," he said before he left, but my mother only nodded once before shutting the door behind him.

And for reasons I did not know, my mom called for me, and, once I'd come down to her, she hugged me long and tight. It felt awkward, me being older and no longer a child, but I let her hold me. I sensed that something had given way inside her, something cold and dark had emerged, a secret perhaps, that she had never told me.

Usually when she held me I felt protected, safe. But now, as Michelle held me to her, I felt as if she was clinging onto me in fear. Now, it felt as if it was I who was protecting her.

And being only fourteen that thought scared the hell out of me.

* * *

**So...review. This chapter sucks. But I promise it'll get more interesting later on...**


	3. Night and Day

**Night and Day**

The good thing about high school is that it's a big change from everything else and most of the people have no idea who you are. You have a chance to start something anew, grow up a little, test yourself. Nobody here knows I'm half-Indian and half-Asian, nobody knows that I have only one parent, and nobody knows that I can kick their asses in combat.

I like it this way. This way nobody can judge me like the others had done in elementary and middle school. I don't understand bullying—how can somebody possibly find pleasure in another's misery? Why can't we all just help each other? I guess it's too hard being nice, and it's "not cool" to be kind to everyone. This realization saddens me, but that's real life.

I've been in high school for half a year now, and I like it better than middle school. The classes seem a little mediocre and easy in my opinion, except for science and writing class, but I don't mind.

The day was almost over, and I stuffed my history textbook into my backpack as I hurried to my last period: art. Setting my bag down, I quickly set up my easel and placed my canvas gently upon it. Pretty soon the raucous seniors and juniors that shared my class quieted as they took up their brushes and swept paint across the white spaces of their canvas. That's what art does to people: it takes you away to that inner corner of your mind, to a place where there is only you and your own thoughts, your own world…the emotions are difficult to explain, but they're there.

Taking up my brush, I added a tiny, tiny tint of red to his eyes, so they seemed to glow a slight scarlet, but look natural at the same time. His crimson eyes would be my focal point since the rest of his body and the painting was black and gray. The man had been created based on a dream I'd had a few months ago, an odd, intriguing dream that my mind had refused to let go of. Usually dreams slip the human mind at the moment of consciousness, or it gradually fades from memory as time goes on. But not this one. He was attractive, pale skin, dark features, and his eyes and mouth had been so sad and gray that I'd woken up on the brink of tears. I didn't understand the dream, and it had come to me only once, two weeks before Ganryu's sudden visit.

Now that I think of it, the dream had come to me at the time of Jun Kazama's death. Uncanny…she's a total stranger. Was there any connection between her death and my dream? Or should I say…vision? The thought sent chills up my arms and back, and I quickly shook my head to focus again on my painting.

I made his hair dark, dark like a moonless night, and the shadows on his skin further brought out the scarlet in his irises. Sometimes, I wished that he were actually a real person somewhere in the world, so that I could destroy that sorrow from his eyes. My man looked haunted, sad, but there was something fierce in him too, feral, secretive, seductive and I jumped slightly when I looked at my painting again from afar: he seemed to be staring straight into my heart.

"Whoa. Sweet painting," a voice said in awe behind me.

Turning around in my seat, I gazed up at the person who'd complimented me. It was a girl, a very pretty one, and her brown eyes shined with mirth. So, one of those naturally happy people huh?

I gave her a quick once over: sleek light brown hair, pink flip flops, faded, short jean skirt, and a white T-shirt so tight I could see every detail on her bra. She had a perfect figure, smooth, tan skin, and I knew that she was one of those naturally beautiful people that all the other ordinary girls loved to hate.

A prep. Either that or a slut (God, I hate that word), what with all that promiscuous clothes she had on. How could she ever dress like that, perfect figure or not? Normally, I would have cringed when face to face with someone like this, but something about her was different. It was like all this revealing, preppy clothing was only a show.

I've always been insightful, and sometimes it gets uncanny and annoying. It's as if I can see right through people, read perfect strangers as if they were open textbooks in front of me, without ever saying a word to them. It's weird. Often I wish I were just some bland, ordinary girl that liked pop music and blue-eyed white boys with Doc Martens. **(A/N: No offense to any girl who does)** Life would be easier. It would be so much easier to blend in.

"Um, thanks. It's not all that," I finally replied.

The girl rolled her eyes. "Stop being modest. This is amazing. You should see mine; it sucks! Where'd you learn to paint like that?"

I just shrugged in response.

"Nobody taught me. I've been doing art since I was a kid."

"Wow. Well, you're good. I'm Christie by the way, Christie Monteiro."

She extended her hand and, setting down my brush, I shook it. I was impressed. Usually people are so freaking stuck up these days when it comes to greetings, but this random girl boldly introducing herself was definitely different.

"Julia Chang." And the smile she flashed me was so jubilant and bright that it was almost to the point of looking fake. Those artificial smiles that people give you to be polite, you know? But it wasn't the case here. This peculiar girl was real…to some extent, at least. Like I said, I can read people, and there was more to Christie than met the eye, more to her eye-boggling clothing and _Herbal Essence_ hair.

And so began my friendship with Christie Monteiro.

We were an odd sight, a strange mix, because Chris and I were complete opposites. We were like night and day. Christie knew fashion, she knew how to flirt well with the guys, she was popular, boyfriends left and right, and she was attractive. She was confident, (sometimes _too_ confident) and she flaunted her sexuality without fear.

Me? Well, let's just say with my glasses, dull silver and turquoise beads, and frayed sketchbook, I was more the art and science nerd in the corner. However, my being shy didn't lower myself to that of one of Christie's cronies. I was not her shadow.

Unlike most of her girlfriends, I was one of the rare people that Christie treated as her equal. Christie, with all her looks and charisma, could bend anyone to her will—but never me. As much as I valued her and our friendship, I'm independent by nature; nobody rules over me, not even my best friend, and Chris knows that.

We took our friendship seriously, and, seeing how I've never had a sister, I loved her fiercely like one.

It hadn't been until I'd met Christie that I realized how lonely I'd been in high school. I'd been so intent on my studies, so determined to get good grades that I'd unintentionally isolated myself from my peers. My friends from grade school drifted away from me, and I hadn't noticed or minded. When guys so much as stared at me too long I'd always glare at them until they looked away. Either that or blushed fiercely, half because of embarrassment and half because of flatter. No boyfriends for me, I guess.

Then, Christie had noticed, and she hadn't been pleased. She'd insisted that they'd liked me but were just too intimidated to approach.

Huh? A boy liked _me,_ Plain Jane Julia? I'd just always thought that they'd only wanted a piece of ass, nothing more. Don't guys just think with their dicks? Besides, I have no time for guys.

"Come on, Jules, not all guys are sex-crazed assholes. There are good ones out there, hon," she'd said one day.

"Whatever," I'd snorted.

"Have faith, girl! You know Julia, you're one of those rare girls who don't realize just how beautiful they are," she'd said softly, sincerely.

"Now you're going lesbian on me? Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Shut up, you sicko."

We'd both been fifteen at the time, young, carefree, and happy. Christie was a great girl, a wonderful friend, but there were times when I worried for her. Although she was perfect in every other way, Christie failed horribly in academics. She skipped classes so many times that sometimes I'd be sick with worry, wondering if she was alright. Everyday she seemed to be with a new guy and her damn skirts kept getting shorter.

Once, while on my way to the bathroom, I'd caught Christie in a corner with some guy, his hand halfway down her shorts, their mouths locked.

"C-Christie?" I'd gasped, surprised yet not too shocked at the same time.

Her mouth separated momentarily from the boy's and she'd smiled sheepishly at me, tugging at her jean skirt.

"Oh, hey Jules."

Without another word, I had dragged her by the arm away from her little make out session and shoved her into the bathroom with me.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I asked, cornering her in the small bathroom, which reeked of grime and cleaning solution.

"Nothing! Why are you making such a big deal out of this?" Christie protested.

"'Cause you're my friend, and this prancing about with boys isn't doing you any good. Look at your grades, Chris! You're barely passing every class, and I keep seeing you with different guys! Are you ok?" I exclaimed.

Christie's eyes narrowed in fury. "Look, you don't know anything, ok? I'm just having fun!"

"Fun? Your grades are failing, and those guys could hurt you! Don't you know that?"

My mother had not been promiscuous, but that hadn't prevented her from being hurt by a man…and I didn't want Christie to end up like Michelle: alone and sad no matter how many smiles she gave.

"Julia, just leave me alone."

"Never. You need help, Christie."

"Like hell I do. Get out of my way!"

She gave me a violent shove, but instead of losing my balance, I instead shoved her back. It was a reflex, but a fatal mistake.

Christie Monteiro had never told me that she could fight. Before I could comprehend what was happening, she was in a handstand, her legs in the air, and she swung them around in a fighting style I'd never seen before. Her legs swept across the ground and under my feet, and pretty soon I found myself flat on my butt. The air was knocked out of me, and my teeth clenched with the unexpected pain.

But I'm not slow. Recovering quickly with my hands tightened into fists, I attempted to stop her.

"Chris, what the hell are you doing! I don't want to fight you!" I pleaded.

"Will you leave me alone?" she snarled, her brown hair tousled and her body swaying. It looked like some style of dancing—ass-kicking dancing, that is.

"No."

"You asked for it."

Kicking off her high heels, Christie let loose a series of kicks, her whole body swaying like a cobra entranced by the charmer, and I blocked every blow. However, I couldn't keep defending all the time, and once I found an opening, I sent a lethal uppercut into my best friend's nose.

"Haiiii-ya!" I cried as I finished the uppercut.

Christie cried out, staggering back, a look of madness in her eyes.

"Why are you fighting me? We're friends! I just wanna help you!" I protested, tears forming behind my eyes. My bare knuckles ached from hurting her, but I bit back the pain. It was nothing compared to the sadness and disappointment I felt in my heart.

"Stop telling me what to do, Julia. I do what I please, and I don't need you!"

"You don't mean that, Chris."

"Yes I do. All you do is bitch about my grades and my behavior, and I'm sick of it! You aren't me! Live your life and I'll live mine!"

Then, the look of a crazed bull in her brown eyes, Christie rushed towards me. At the last moment, despair in my heart, I sidestepped, sending her reeling into nothingness. I kicked out my leg, striking her midsection with a quick snap kick. I then roved around, attacked her shins, and ended by sending a vicious elbow-palm strike combo into her stomach. Christie fell back, gasping for air, and collapsed in exhaustion across from me, her body spent, knowing she'd been defeated. That didn't erase the look of loathing and resentment on her face however. A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, and her nose was bleeding slightly from my uppercut.

I slumped to the ground too, wiping the sweat from my skin. Then, quietly, I let the tears flow free.

I felt like I was six again, kicking that boy in the crotch during recess. That had been nothing, stupid, childish and unimportant. But now I had hurt my friend, one of the most important people in my life. Not many girls like me get to beat up their best friend. I got that special privilege, didn't I?

* * *

"It's beautiful." 

Sliding the ring onto my middle finger I admired it from a distance. The ring was silver, and as the sunlight struck it, the metal gleamed and its brilliance made my eyes shut momentarily. Carefully pounded within the metal were designs of turquoise, little swirls and rectangles of blue. The jewel fixed in its center was of the deepest amber, and it was the perfect contrast to its silver and turquoise band.

Michelle had crafted this ring herself for my fifteenth birthday. I'd been fifteen for a couple months now, but the ring had taken longer than expected. It didn't matter. With this ring came all of my mother's love and care, and I embraced her yet again.

"Thank you, Ama," I murmured.

"You're welcome. I'm glad you like it," Michelle answered.

Sitting down on a chair, I watched as my mother fixed us sandwiches. She was so beautiful, my mother, so resilient and good. She loved me, and after all of these years, she had refused to let the aching for my father hinder that love for me. No matter how lonely she seemed, Michelle had managed to raise me by herself, and I admired her for it. I would never be her equal, never be as strong as she was, but that's ok. She's my mother after all.

Getting up from my seat, I took the bread from her hands. I was nearly as tall as she was.

"Sit and rest, Mother. I'll make the sandwiches," I said.

Michelle smiled, gave me a soft kiss on the cheek, and took the chair I'd abandoned.

"Another A on your test. Well, I'm not surprised. Good job, honey," she said softly as she looked at my grade report lying on the table.

"Yeah, it was hard, but studying paid off. Mom…thanks for everything."

Michelle looked up at me and smiled. "You're welcome, Julia. Sweetie, is everything alright? You seem awfully quiet and somber today."

Swallowing the tears, I told my mother about Christie and my fight.

"It's just that, she's like a sister to me and I was only trying to protect her, but—no matter what I do to try and help, things always go the wrong way! I can't help caring, Mom. I can't bring myself to just turn away and let her ruin her life!"

Then I was in my mother's embrace, I was six again, and I finally allowed myself release.

**Michelle**

"Hush, my little bird, it's alright," I soothed as Julia sobbed into my shoulder, "friends get into fights all the time."

"Not like this one, Mom! I drew blood, I drew blood…"

"Sh, sh, it's ok. You were only defending yourself, and you did what you had to. Stop taking the blame."

"I o-only w-wanted to help h-her…"

"I know, Jules. But sometimes you have to let people learn for themselves. Sometimes, no matter how painful it is to watch, we have to let them be and live their own way. I'm glad that you tried to help Christie, but for now all you can do is move on, ok?"

The last of her sobs dissipating, my daughter nodded reluctantly.

"You may have lost a friend, love, but don't ever be afraid to be alone. Sometimes we grow stronger when we're by ourselves…"

And when I said those words, I thought of Han. As Julia's eyes met mine, it was as if my daughter saw straight into me and knew every thought I had.

"Yes. You're right," she murmured.

* * *

She is no longer the little child I once held in my arms, playing in the river and making castles from the red dirt of the canyons. Julia will always be my baby girl in my eyes, but now, as the years go by, she changes into a woman. 

Intelligent, beautiful, and with a pure heart, Julia is beginning to understand. I love watching her grow, I love her smiles and all those A's she brings home, and I love her happiness and the way she always manages to brighten my life.

But sooner or later, my Julia will have to experience pain all over again, pain much greater than the pain she felt from the fight with her friend.

When she does face it someday, I _must_ be by her side. I must be there to wipe her tears dry, because if I am not, then Julia is lost. Strong as she is, Julia will be lost.

**Julia**

Christie came to school the next day with bruises on her perfect skin. I didn't see them, nobody did, but unlike everyone else, I knew they were there because of the baggy sweatshirt she wore to school. Christie Monteiro never wears sweatshirts. Also, it was nearly 95 degrees outside, so she was a pretty peculiar sight. Everyone stared and laughed except me.

In art class, I refused to look at her. She kept trying to catch my eye but I pretended as if I didn't notice and continued to paint away at the man from my dream. With each stroke of my brush he looked more and more real…and then my mind began convincing me that yes, he was real. But that's insane.

When art class was over, Christie seized me by the arm before I could make my escape.

"Julia," she said as she pulled me to the back of the room.

"I have to catch my bus—" I began to protest, but the look of pain in her eyes made me stay.

"Jules, I'm sorry for what happened."

In addition to no sweatshirts, Christie Monteiro also never apologizes.

"What?" I asked, shocked.

"I'm-I'm sorry, Julia. I was being stupid and I shouldn't have fought with you. And…"

I waited patiently as Christie looked away.

"And I've joined the after school tutoring classes on Wednesdays and Thursdays…I'm working on my grades," she finally uttered.

I didn't need to hear anything more. Setting down my backpack, I threw my arms around her. We were friends again. We'd be friends for several, several years, but we'd only be together for another two and a half.

* * *

When we were seventeen, juniors and almost out of high school, Christie told me her grandfather in Brazil was sick, "really sick," and that she had to leave with her parents to go see him. She was moving back to Brazil, leaving me here in Arizona, all alone all over again. No doubt I was sad and worried (more for Christie's wellbeing than her ill grandfather's) but she had to go. Things were changing for us. We weren't children anymore. 

I'd find out later that my best friend, no matter how many tutoring classes she took, never went to college. She graduated from high school with okay grades, but she never did go to college. And for a long time I grieved for her, because if Christie really tried, she could do anything. She wasn't stupid; she was just ignorant and apathetic, and that's too bad. A mind wasted.

But it's not my life. I just hope that whatever Christie does, she's happy with herself.

She wanted to keep training in her martial arts in Brazil (Capoeira, she told me), so she could beat me one day. She said it with that smile of hers, except now it was kind of sad. Christie left in the middle of junior year without a word of good-bye, because, in both of our hearts, we knew we didn't have to say good-bye. One day we'd see each other again.

It was three days after my best friend left that things truly began to go awry. I kept seeing that man from my painting in my dreams. It was so vivid I expected him to be by my bedside when I woke up but all that ever met me was shadows and the whispers of the fading dream.

Mother started acting funny too. She was paranoid all the time; she never left my side, never allowed to me go outside exploring on my own like I used to as a child. I noticed the books stacking up in her room, books on myths and legends—book-marked on pages of the mysterious God of Fighting. What was she up to anyway?

And pictures, pictures of an old Japanese man I'd never seen before with hard, steel-cold eyes and a gray mustache. Pictures of a pretty Japanese woman (Jun?) and numerous article clippings on that forest fire Ganryu had told us about three years ago.

At the time, I was only worried for my mother and her sanity. Later I would realize that I should have also been worrying for myself.

* * *

_Chapters 4 and 5 are already written (yeah, I was on a writing spree, what can I say) and will be here soon, so don't stop reading! Things DO get interesting. Go Julia! Yeah, so, you know what to do next: click the review button. DO IT. It will make me happy._


	4. The Coyote's Bite

_Thank you all for the awesome reviews! Just a heads up: I won't be explaining every little detail of every tournament Julia experiences because that would just take too much time and space. That's not the point/plot of the story. Yeah, it's part of Julia's life, but the tournaments are the least of her problems in this story…so, hope you like this next chapter. _

* * *

**The Coyote's Bite**

It was Aunt Cora who found me sweating and shivering in my bed, yet my skin was as hot as the parched canyons under the Arizona sun. I'd been muttering over an over again incoherently, and they couldn't seem to wake me. My eyes were open, but they didn't see. My body was present, but it seemed that my mind was elsewhere.

They called in Ya'Atsos, and in a matter of moments she had me back to the present. Dreams, spirits, visions…it freaked me out. Wasn't that a thing of the past, a thing only my great ancestors used to have? I mean come on! These are modern days now. There's science and technology, the CD player and telephone, not mindless visions about nonsense and talk of the supernatural. That era was over.

But how else could I explain my night terrors? How else could I explain the feeling of foreboding disaster? How could I tell my family that the man from my painting was real? Who is he anyway and why the hell do I keep seeing him?

Some things are unexplainable I guess, things which cannot be explained with science and reason. It's one of the oddities of life that I've never been able to truly figure out. I had no choice but to let it be.

After that night, after Ya'Atsos had given me a charm to wear and placed a dagger under my bed (to ward off evil spirits), I didn't have nightmares anymore. But I still felt things happening, things I knew were happening somewhere in the world. Ogre had killed two more people, and as he did I felt their pain as my own. Although I never thought I'd say this, I admit now that I believe in the great God of Fighting. His power waxes with each victim he slays, and as he grows in strength my mother becomes more and more paranoid. But, even as I knew all this and even though Michelle worried herself sick, I didn't care too much. Sure, I mourned over the loss of the fighters that Ogre killed, but as long as he left Mom, the tribe, and me alone, then everything was ok…right?

* * *

Michelle never lets me go anywhere unsupervised and it annoys the hell out of me. I'm eighteen after all, an adult by law. I'll be entering college soon, moving out and away from my mom, yet Michelle still treats me like I'm six years old.

The mornings are the coolest time of the day in Arizona. The fog still lingers in the canyons and the sun has not fully woken its merciless gaze from behind the plateaus. The red rocks are slightly wet from the morning's mist, and dew dangles from the cacti and trees. Even the birds have not yet begun to sing their song. It is now that I slip on my moccasins, one of the few clothing items of my ancestors' that I'm willing to wear, and sneak out of my home as Michelle sleeps. The smooth deer skin moccasins are silent on the ground, and when I'm well away from my house, then my neighborhood, I begin to run for the canyons.

I run for awhile, loving the sweet smell of the land and the wind trailing gentle fingers across my skin. It's just me today, alone and finally free to do as I wished. There is a small stream that flows from the base of a mountain not far from where I am, and the soft trickle of the running water is the only sound I hear. The water's music is soothing, tranquil, reminding me of peaceful days, and the water is cold as I run my fingertips over the turquoise-blue surface. Moving on from the stream, I head towards my real destination.

I used to come here nearly every day as a child, to the great canyons and ravines, to this little creek, and although the path wound this way and that, I always managed to find my way home. The canyons seemed to swallow me up, engulfing me into their scarlet depths, and the towering plateaus loomed over me, casting their shadows onto the red earth. I'd never felt more at home than I did now. This path I'd made led to a large but carefully hidden rock cave, a cave I'd always visit when I wanted some time to think and be by myself. It rested on ground level, which was relatively safe, but was hidden between thick rock walls. I wonder if my ancestors had ever discovered it as I had.

When I reached the rock, I slid easily between their walls, the sides of the narrow opening slightly damp from the morning's mist, and I entered the cave silently. In the middle of the cave is a small pool of water, clear and refreshing to the tongue even though it was stagnate. Even when the sun lifted the temperatures to an unbearable 104 degrees, the pond always kept the cave cool. Beginning to smile, I entered the cave without hesitation, running my fingertips along its cold rock walls.

The reason I'd come here was to be alone, to escape the watchful eyes of my mother, and the searing gaze of the sun. Everyone needs a sanctuary. But as it turns out, I am going to be denied that desire, for I am not alone after all. Sitting on the edge of the pool was a lone _ma'ii_ **(A/n: coyote)**, a male by the looks of it, with a ragged but shiny pelt of gray. He lapped up a few droplets of water, the pink tongue creating silent ripples across the mirror-still surface of the water. I held my breath, hoping he wouldn't notice me, but then I watched as his ears cocked and his head lifted, nose to the air. Silent as I was, his sense of smell never failed him.

Coyotes are scavengers, not the most beautiful or intelligent creatures in the world in my opinion, and are often seen as sly and untrustworthy. But they are part of nature, and I love them all the same.

His yellow eyes found me quickly, and he slowly stepped away from the water. We stood there together, staring at one another, neither of us moving a muscle. He was waiting for me, waiting for me to do something, but all I did was meet his yellow gaze. And in this moment I realized that he was indeed beautiful. His eyes were a little dull, his pelt was coarse and unkempt, and his legs skinny and malnourished, but yes, he was beautiful. He looked like he had seen many things, known many hardships, and that was why he was here, alone in my cave.

It was I who moved first. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, I extended my hand. The coyote growled, taking a hesitant step backward, but I refused to lower my hand.

"Come here. Come on, now, I'm not going to hurt you…" I said over and over softly, keeping my voice low. I kept my head lowered too, softened my gaze a little, so he did not think of me as a threat, and continued to speak.

Slowly, the gray coyote inched closer and closer to me, his eyes narrowed and wary, but his body moving forward towards my hand. Then, he was standing right in front of me, and I gently set my hand onto his head. Reflexively, I flinched slightly just when my skin met fur, afraid that he'd bite me, but the creature just stood there waiting. Regaining my courage, I began to scratch his head, behind the ears, under the chin like a good old dog, petting and smoothing down his rumpled pelt, and the coyote closed his eyes and let me do as I wished. Pretty soon he'd slumped down at my feet, a silly grin on his face, and when I pet him again, the coyote licked my fingers. When I'd stop, he'd push his head underneath my hand, silently asking for a scratch. Laughing, I pet the pathetic creature until my fingers tired, and we just sat there in the cave, watching the colors change on the rock walls as the sun rose.

My mother would be looking for me soon, but somehow I didn't want to leave the coyote yet. He was terribly lonely, and also hurt by the looks of the numerous scars on his body and the dull gaze in his eyes…

But when I reached down to pet him again, the coyote turned his head and sank his teeth into my hand. Releasing a cry of shock I leaped up and recoiled from the predator. Now his eyes were no longer playful and sad but wild and feral, his teeth bared, canines gleaming, ears pointed, and he lunged again. Clutching my hand to my chest, which wasn't bleeding but ached a little, I lashed out and kicked the coyote in the chest. He stumbled slightly but came at me again, his fangs fixated on that hand he'd bitten, and this time, when his teeth made contact again, blood burst forth. The sudden scarlet against my hand shocked me more than the pain.

I screamed, realizing the danger I was in, and scrambled to get away. I was nearly halfway to the exit of the cave when I quickly glanced behind me to see if he was following; he wasn't. The coyote was at the water's edge again, watching me leave with those expressionless yellow eyes. Strangely, I felt hurt, _betrayed_, and then I reprimanded myself for feeling this way over a dumb animal. Still, he had managed to affect me, and I cast one last questioning glance his way. Why had he suddenly turned on me like that? And why did he not chase me down and kill me? All he did was draw blood, nothing more.

The coyote bent his head to drink from the water; what an odd creature. Then, I fled home, the blood running down my wrist and forearm from the open gash on my hand.

The coyote's bite healed rather quickly, in two days, and all that was left was a tiny little scar, barely visible, on my left hand. I never saw the coyote again, but maybe that's just because I never returned to my cave. Or maybe it's because the coyote may possibly have never existed.

* * *

I graduated number one in the top ten of my high school class and Michelle and nearly half my tribe was there to celebrate. Smiling, I realized that I would finally be able to go to college and pursue some real dreams for a change. What I would do in college was still undetermined however.

"You're such a nerd, Julia," Gabe joked as he tugged on my braid.

"Thank you," I smiled as I embraced my cousin.

There was a big dinner after that, Mom made me give a speech, and there were presents and congratulations exchanged, all that good stuff. By the time the evening was over I was exhausted. But there was still one more thing Mom had to tell me.

"I am so proud of you Julia," she murmured into my hair as she squeezed me to her. There were tears in my mother's eyes and I kissed her cheek.

"I couldn't have done it without you, Ama," I replied with a smile.

"Yes, but it was your brain, not mine. You are a woman now, Julia. Whatever path you take in life, make sure you're happy, and always make sure you have enough money to support yourself."

"I know, Mom."

"You'll be going off to college soon, and even though Mother Earth is beautiful and strong, she has her scars as well. She has her dark sides, so be careful, Julia. Make the right choices."

The usual mother and daughter pep talk, but, smiling, I hugged her again. "I will."

Michelle smiled, then removed from the kitchen counter a piece of paper. She handed the sheet to me silently, and I peered down at the writing.

"It has been four years, my daughter, four years since Ganryu has visited us. Do you remember what he told us?" my mother asked.

I read the headline on the paper: _The Mishima Zaibatsu presents: The King of Iron Fist Tournament III._

I looked up at my mother. "Ganryu said the next tournament was to be held in four years…and sign up is…" I scanned the paper quickly, "in three days!"

Michelle nodded, and I felt the adrenaline rush through me as my excitement and anticipation grew. The prospect of competing against other fighters and proving my ability set my blood on fire. I was now better than my mother in combat. I had beaten her several times, and I couldn't wait until I entered. The idea of seeing a new world beyond the barriers of Arizona excited me beyond anything I'd ever felt. Hell, I've never even been out of state in my whole life! And this tournament was to be held in Japan and then several other countries too. Not to mention all of the different ethnicity's and cultures this tournament introduced. Beaming, I flashed my mother a broad grin.

"I'm going to fight, Mom, I'm gonna fight like you did? Oh, this is so exciting!" I squealed, clutching the paper to my chest. Guiltily, I felt that the idea of participating in this renowned martial arts tournament was making me happier than graduating number one from high school.

The smile gone from her face, my mother snatched the paper away. I reached for it slightly, confused, but Mom shook her head and set the paper down behind her.

"No, Julia, you are _not_ going to fight in this tournament, and you never will. This paper is for _me_ because I am going to enroll alone. Aunt Cora will look after you in my absence," Michelle explained grimly.

Shocked and hurt, I could only stare at my mother. Had I not beaten her several times during sparring? My skills far exceeded her own now! I'd been waiting so long to prove myself, so long to feel the rush of the fight, so long to compete against someone else that was just as good or better than I was. And now my mom was just going to take that away from me after all my training and hard work?

"What?" I cried in disbelief, finding my voice finally. "You can't do this, Mother! I want to fight too!" I sounded like a whiny little girl again, and my face heated with embarrassment, but I wanted this so much. I realized then that this was the first time my mom and I had ever gotten into an argument.

"I'm sorry, Julia but you can't. It's too dangerous."

"How is a little martial arts tournament going to harm me? I have the skills and the maturity to do this, Mom!"

"I do not doubt your ability, Julia; you are indeed very good. It's only your safety I'm worried about. Join any other tournament you like—except this one."

"No! The Mishima tournaments are the most prestigious, they have the best fighters, you said so yourself, and don't you want me to challenge myself?"

"Yes but—no, Julia, _no_! You have _no idea_ what actually goes on in these tournaments, and I will not have you involved. I will not lose you like I already lost your father! Do not ask me again if you can participate!"

I had never seen her this upset before, not even when Ganryu had visited four years ago.

I was quiet for a moment, allowing my mother's words to sink in. For years I've known since I was a kid that Mom had secrets, hidden fears that she never wanted to talk about. And that didn't include my father Han. I knew all about him already, but there had always been something else, but I'd never asked. Now, for the first time, I had a chance to find out what was really bothering her. I'd waited long enough.

"What are you not telling me, Mother? Does it have to do with the God of Fighting?" I asked softly.

Michelle hesitated, but slowly nodded.

"You're strong, Julia, but not strong enough. Heihachi Mishima, the man who runs this whole accursed program, is dangerous as well, very likely more so than the God of Fighting himself. It's because of him and his family that you're not fighting."

"Then why are _you _fighting? You shouldn't go either if he's this bad."

"True, but you forget that I've been in one of these things before; I know how his system works, and I want to get rid of the bastard before he creates anymore chaos. You don't know anything about how ruthless Heihachi can be. He threw his own son over the face of a mountain after all…anyway, you cannot even begin to fathom what he and his family are capable of."

"Is Jun Kazama part of his family?" I asked suddenly. I don't know why I asked it, how the woman's name all of a sudden popped into my head, but I waited patiently for my mom's answer.

My mother closed her eyes. "I don't know if she ever married Kazuya, but Kazuya is Heihachi's son. And Jun was Kazuya's lover and together they conceived a child—children, according to Ganryu—and…oh never mind."

"Tell me, Mom. Please," I begged. For a long while, my mother looked away and remained silent. I've always been patient, and I know that she gets this way every time she's about to say something extremely important or extremely painful. And then, with pain in her eyes, Michelle began to tell me the story. She told me everything from the medallion to something called the Devil Gene, from Heihachi throwing Kazuya over a cliff to Jun and Kazuya's relationship. She even told me a little bit about the God of Fighting. Seeing how he derived his power from the death of fighters, Heihachi's tournament was a definite hotspot for Ogre.

"What are their names?" I asked curiously after Mom had told me about the children.

Mom sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. "I don't know, but I do know that the son, the firstborn, is only a year older than you are. He's dangerous, Julia, and will be at this next tournament. He probably even carries the Gene in his blood."

"How do you know that for sure? Maybe he's innocent and it's only his father and grandfather that are messed up," I argued, but Michelle shook her head.

"It doesn't matter. As long as he's related to the Mishimas, he is no friend of ours. That, my little bird, is why you are staying here with your aunt and the rest of the tribe. Even if I fail to bring down Heihachi and fail to defeat the God of Fighting, there will always be someone else to take my place."

So she could even die at this tournament. However, from the look on her face, I knew that the last thing Michelle wanted were my tears. She would not tolerate my pleads for her not to leave; when my mother's mind is made up, nobody can change it, not even me, her own daughter. So instead I remained quiet and only nodded once.

From the information my mother just told me, I instantly hated the Mishima family, but I couldn't bring myself to hate the children. They would be around my age by now, and they couldn't help it if they'd been born to two crappy-ass parents. They were just unlucky. Their mother was dead, murdered, and all the men in their family were cold-blooded assholes. I've never been that unlucky. The only bad luck I've ever had is when my father left my mother and me.

I thank the spirits everyday that I still have my mother, and I hope that I never have to lose her like the Mishima children lost theirs.

The tournament started in two days, and my mother planned to leave on the morning of the second. Except one afternoon, a day before her departure, my mother went out to run some errands—and she never came back.

We waited, my tribe and I, for several long, agonizing hours for Michelle's return. When night fell, my worry changed into unbearable fear. With all this conflict going on about the God of Fighting, the corrupt Mishima family, and the dead fighters, my imagination ran wild. Had Ogre found my mother? Was she even alive still? Had Heihachi finally come after her and our medallion?

There was only one thing to do in order to find some answers. Rummaging through my mother's packed suitcases I finally found the sheet of paper, folded it neatly, and stuffed it into my jeans pocket. Then, calmly, no tears, no overreactions, no wails, I unpacked my mom's luggage and put my own clothing inside in their place. The moccasins went and so did the hunting dagger, items I packed more for comfort than necessity. The brown leather gloves I used for sparring went in, boots, brush, hygiene items, books (yeah ok, I read. So what?), and a couple feathers from the tribe for good luck. On my finger I slid on the beautiful silver ring my mom had given me three years ago and I quickly pulled my hair up into a taut ponytail.

Well, ironically, I was going to the tournament, but for altered reasons. I had to find my mother, and this was my chance to finally see what the Mishimas were all about. It wasn't just a simple martial arts competition anymore, or proving myself and winning the prize money…no. My mom is missing. If she gets hurt…well, she won't. I'll be there to save her.

With a heavy heart, I left Arizona the next morning.

_"Don't ever be afraid to be alone. Sometimes, we grow stronger when we're by ourselves…"_

I tried hard to believe that.

* * *

**So...yeah. She'll meet Jin soon I promise. **


	5. Enigma

_Finally updating! So yeah, hopefully this chapter isn't too bad...don't forget to review._

* * *

**Enigma **

I close my eyes, remembering that day in Arizona. It's been two years since the third tournament, and for now my mother and our medallion are safe at home. I remember finding her, weak and exhausted, but alive. I remember feeling relieved and overjoyed knowing that my mother was safe…and I also recall the terrible loathing in my heart for the man named Heihachi Mishima. He had changed my life forever, had almost taken from me the one person I loved more than anything in the world. I had no idea until that third tournament that someone like me could harbor such incredible hatred for another person. Like they say, there's a first time for everything, right?

_"Hatred is not the answer. Do you remember why I taught you the powers to fight? It was to protect Mother Earth, not to destroy…"_

I remember my mother's words, repeat them everyday in my head like a mantra, over and over to try and keep the hate and bitterness from my heart. Hate never got anyone anywhere after all, and I tried hard to move on and not have secret fantasies of ripping off Heihachi's head.

But soon, I eventually pushed that old bastard to the back of my mind and focused on college and my new studies: archeology and forest restoration. After high school, I never took up my paintbrush again; I was simply too busy with my schoolwork and with training for the tournaments. The fifth one had just ended half a month ago, and I was still recuperating from my last humiliating defeat. After all that training I'd managed to lose anyway.

But besides that defeat the fifth tournament hadn't been that bad. I'd gotten my first glimpse of Kazuya's son, Jin Kazama. I remember how beautifully he'd fought, but I'd only caught little glimpses of him; the man was elusive, but merciless in the fighting ring. I never got to see his face close up, but from the adoration on the faces of his female fans Jin Kazama was probably handsome. He never did show any interest in the girls however, though I remember him casting occasional, quick glances toward a small, bubbly Asian girl. She was really fond of pink, and I remember how she seemed to never stop smiling...it disturbs me that I have such a vivid memory about complete strangers.

I also remember Jin's most aggressive match had been against some red-haired man from Korea. The match had lasted for a very long time, but finally Jin managed to defeat the poor guy in the last round. Sad for Red-Hair Guy, but I hadn't been surprised; Jin was clearly the better fighter. I'd noticed that he'd been in every tournament I'd been in, but we'd never spoken to one another. I remember how much trouble he got in with the authorities, that little punk, how every other word that came out of his mouth was an obscenity, and he annoyed everybody, including me. However, the girls there didn't seem to mind and, unlike Jin, the Korean guy let them hang all over him. When he left after his match with Jin it was no big deal. I was actually sort of relieved—almost everyone was. He'd caused so much trouble with his presence.

Little did I know that someday we'd meet again…but that's another story.

However, all of this doesn't matter that much to me at the time, because it was in the fifth tournament that I saw my friend. After three years we met again, Christie and I, and she was here to compete as I was. Luckily, the judges never did match us up as opponents, and we'd spent our leisure time catching up on the years lost. She hadn't changed much: the clothing was still very suggestive, she was still as beautiful and tan as ever, but there was a new determination in Christie that hadn't been there before. Maybe it's because she's finally matured, or maybe its just because she's fighting to help her ill grandfather. When she lost, Christie had disappeared, and hours later I'd found her in the locker room with her face in her hands, weeping about failure and knowing that without the money her grandpa was as good as dead. And for once my attempts at consoling her failed.

When we both lost, it was time to say good-bye again. It was brief and emotional, but we parted ways once more, this time unsure if we'd see each other again.

* * *

So, my life has been pretty normal so far. I was no damsel in distress, tragic heroine, suicidal drama queen or substance abuser; I was just your average woman trying to create a living for herself, a person who didn't really know how Life worked yet (psh, who does?) but was trying to learn. You know? For now I was a normal gal, life-loving, curious, overall pretty content—but _don't worry_, that tragic heroine crap will come soon enough. Tragedy never fails to make life "interesting" does it? Sorry, I'm rambling. On to my life story… 

Anyway, I don't concern myself with Heihachi or his family anymore now that Michelle is finally safe. Now, I only compete in his tournaments to keep up my skills, and, if I did ever win, the prize money would be great for forest restoration. An oncoming desert is slowly devouring the land, and I'm doing everything I can to stop it. It's not only that I'm Native American either; I really do love the earth and its creatures, Navajo or not.

"Mitochondria, as you all should have learned in high school biology, is where the energy ATP is stored…"

Digging out my pen, I begin to frantically take notes as Mr. Kurtis lectured, pointing to various diagrams on the black board, his gold-rimmed glasses shining every time he moved.

"…notice the mutation here, on the cell membrane…"

My pen stopped midway on the paper. This guy, no matter how much I respected him, was wasting my time. I'd been sitting here for half an hour listening to him drone on about useless information I already knew since the tenth grade…so why was I putting up with this? Setting my pen down, I closed my notebook and slid my belongings into my backpack. Besides, I had a ten-page paper due in three days in psychology, and I was only half way done. Pushing my glasses back into place, I got up from my desk and exited the class. Mr. Kurtis didn't seem to notice or else didn't care, but it doesn't matter anyway. I was already pulling an A in that class, and his tests were easy. That's the good thing about college: you have much more freedom, and class attendance is optional.

In the library, I settled myself down in front of one of the computers and continued my research for my Psychology class. Since I've always been analytical and good at reading people, the class was fun, and Ms. Hiroyuki was impressed with my abilities. That didn't mean the class was easy however.

As I typed in my password, I noticed just how quiet the library was. It smelled old, a comforting, good kind of smell, with windowpanes slightly dulled, corners yellowed with age, the glass slightly tinted, warping the sunlight. Some of the librarians were ornery old bitches, but besides that, this place was my perfect little haven. If I could, I'd stay here all day.

"Hello, Julia."

I glanced up into the face of my archeology professor, Mr. Vega, one of the best teachers I'd ever had. His voice was gentle and soft, his dark eyes friendly, and I smiled up at him.

"Hi, Mr. Vega," I replied, "how are you?"

"Fine, and I know you are doing well. Psych homework huh? I've heard great stuff about you from Ms. Hiroyuki. Keep up the good work, Ms. Chang. Anyway, it's a good thing you're here because I was going to ask if you were interested in going on a field trip."

My eyebrows raised. "Depends on where to."

He smiled, and asked, "Are you still interested in forest restoration?"

"Of course," I replied.

"Well, I've decided to take twenty of my students to Mexico for my class, and I think the trip will help with your research. We'll be studying some of the ancient ruins there as well, so it won't be too boring."

Wow, going to Mexico? Hell yes.

"Really? That sounds great! I'd love to go."

"Good. It'll be nice to visit my own home country again, won't it?" he said chuckling slightly, "I thought you'd want to come. Sign up is today though, so be quick. Lots of students want this as well, but I know that you'll especially enjoy it."

"Thanks, Mr. Vega."

"De nada. See you later, Julia."

With that my archeology teacher left, and I couldn't stop the smile that came onto my face. Mexico! I couldn't wait. Lucky for me, I was almost fluent in Spanish. Since Arizona was full of Mexican-Americans, I'd picked up the language quickly, and communicating in Mexico would be no problem.

Here in college, I felt at home. I felt like I could do anything; I learned to be independent and think for myself. The crane had finally learned to use her wings. There were no more nightmares about eerie red-eyed boys from paintings, no more whispers in the dark, no more worry for my mother, no more strange encounters with animals. There were no more fears about acceptance and loneliness; here in college, I was somebody, I had a purpose. Life was bliss.

I was only twenty, and I thought that I had it all. A great education, a loving mother and family, good grades, I was healthy, a good fighter, and I was happy. The hardships of my past were behind me. With the Mishimas gone from my life, with Michelle safe at home, I could finally move on and see what this world was really about.

At least, that's what I thought.

Did I know that the moment I stepped off that plane into Mexico that everything would change yet again? No, I had no idea. I was too busy being happy, too busy enjoying life.

Well, She had other plans for me. Life would not allow me to get too comfortable just yet.

* * *

Mexico was a lively, wonderful place. My class had arrived in time for _El Día de Los Muertos_—the Day of the Dead. The streets were crowded with people preparing for the festivities, the aroma of grease and sweets permeating through the air, street vendors overflowing with bright marigold flowers—the special flower for the Day of the Dead. Inhaling the smells, I sighed in happiness and smiled at the people as they passed me by. They stared at me strangely, knowing I was a foreigner, but they returned my greetings kindly. Little children played in the streets, passing a little plastic ball this way and that, and I gazed in awe at their innocence, almost envious. Mothers held their children to their breasts, fathers smiled and dealt with customers interested in their trade. They were such a happy people. At that moment I felt such a longing for my own mother, wishing she could be here with me to see Mexico, and I swallowed hard to keep my emotions concealed. Two years of independence was getting to me. 

"Isn't this place amazing?" one student named James asked me, his eyes shining. He was tall, handsome, blonde, and he'd had a crush on me the moment he'd laid eyes on me in class. James was nice, and I would have gone for him too, but something in my heart told me no, told me to wait a little…I dunno why, but I listened, and my feelings for James never went beyond simple friendship.

"Sure is," I replied.

A small man then popped out of nowhere, smiling wide, combing a brown hand through his hair.

"Hola, chica bonita. Me llamo Eduardo. ¿Cómo estás?" He flashed me a wink.

It's the culture here in Mexico. Men flirting with women—_piropos_—is quite common, no matter if they are complete strangers or not, and tourists and foreigners are their biggest targets, such as myself. It's best just to ignore the sleaze bags. It wasn't the first time a Mexican male had given me a _piropo_, and out of the corner of my eye I noticed James flash the man a steely glare. Ah, James. If only he knew that I didn't need any protecting.

After an hour of exploring the nearby cities, my classmates and I hurried off to the small university where our studies would begin. Mr. Vega was there of course, and he smiled at me when I entered the room. After a couple hours of lecturing, the class finished, and we were again free to do as we liked. I thought I was in heaven.

"Julia, wait up."

I stopped and watched as James hurried to catch up to me, his blonde hair getting into his eyes. He really was attractive, smart too…but there again was that nagging in my heart. _Wait, Julia. Be patient, Julia…_

"Hey," I greeted once he was next to me.

"Hi. You need help with that?" James asked, gesturing towards my backpack. I fought the urge to roll my eyes; he was trying way too hard.

"I got it. But thanks for offering," I replied, unable to suppress a grin.

James flashed me that smile of his, the smile all the girls fell for, but it had no effect on me. Of all the girls in his class, why had he chosen me? I was so ordinary, so boring, and he was only wasting his time. If Christie were here, she'd yell at me for being so uptight and cold about guys. She'd tell me to ask James out, and I'd do it too, just for her happiness.

But Chris isn't here anymore. It's just me. And my heart tells me not to waste time on James no matter how sweet he is.

"So I was wondering, Julia…I heard from Mel about this awesome restaurant downtown called _Juanita_. A couple of us are going down there tonight for some dinner. W-wanna come?" he stammered, his cheeks reddening.

From the hopeful look on his handsome face I almost caved. However, I'd had enough people contact for a day, and I needed some alone time. Usually this would be the time I fled to my little rock cave, but this wasn't Arizona and I was no longer a child. Still, I needed to be alone. I may be all smiles and laughter during the school day, but in the end I liked my privacy.

"You know, James, that sounds really great, but…I need to rest a little. I'm kind of tired," I said, feeling so bad when the man's face fell.

"O-ok, Julia, I understand. Uh, maybe tomorrow then?" he asked, forcing a smile to his face.

I nodded. It was no promise, but I hoped the gesture would make him stop looking so goddamn depressed. "Sure. Tomorrow."

"K, sounds great. I'll walk you to your room then."

* * *

Nobody was around and night slowly descended down over the world. The air was still and silent, heavy and damp with the sweltering heat, and any other person would have had to stop and catch their breath. But I grew up in Arizona, so I welcomed the heat, and wiped the small beads of sweat that had formed on my brow. I loved this time to myself; this was exactly what I'd needed after a long, hectic day in the streets of Mexico. Lifting my head, I gazed in awe up at the great Mayan temple, cracks lining the stone edges, the ancient hieroglyphs faded and dull, but still beautiful all the same. The ancient ruins have always fascinated me, and I ran my hand over the old stone. 

The sunset cast crimson and plum shadows across the temple, playing across the hieroglyphs, seeming to make the figures move and dance with the light. There was something about this temple, something powerful and frightening at the same time, as if the past still lingered within its walls. Instead of going to a restaurant or some cramped dance club like most of my classmates, I was here at the ruins, where Mexico truly began.

It was then, as I was studying the carvings in the stone, that I noticed a narrow opening on the side of the temple. Curious, I approached the opening carefully, looking over my shoulder anxiously to see if anyone was watching, unsure if I was allowed to explore like this. Seeing no one, I continued onward. When I entered, it felt like the ancient Mayan temple itself pulled me in, devouring me into its jaws, trapping me within their world.

Fear suddenly gripped me as the unexpected darkness swallowed me up, but I fought the urge to turn back. I noticed lighted sconces on the walls—the tourist guides probably forgot to put them out after their last showing—and the golden flames flickered, casting jittery shadows against the stone. I sensed the awesome majesty of the place, the power, and as I stared harder at the walls, I noticed the intricate paintings on it, colors of the deepest scarlet and most vibrant of blues…

Gently, I brushed my fingertips over the surface of the beautiful paintings. If a tourist guide were here, I could get in serious trouble. But I was alone, and I hadn't painted in years, so what the hell. Nobody needed to know.

"Pretty, aren't they?"

I gave a startled cry that was so loud I thought the temple would collapse over my head. What the hell! Wasn't I alone?

From the darkness of the room, a place where the light of the sconces had managed not to reach, a man emerged, tall and handsome. He looked familiar. His skin was pale, his features dark, the lines of his mouth so sad it nearly brought me to tears…

My mind struggled a little, but in seconds I had the puzzle put together and knew why he looked so familiar. The painting, the goddamn _painting_...but wasn't he fake, just a dream? But here he stood, real as ever, and except for the red eyes, this man was the spitting image of my painting. He was the "man of my dreams," though not in the exact way girls usually meant when they said that phrase, and I almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. But right then I was so afraid and instead of laughing, I swallowed my voice and I clutched at the wall. Without warning, the scar on my left hand began to burn, the pain trailing all the way up my arm. It had never hurt before, but at the moment it was just as painful as when the coyote had first bitten me. I could almost see the scarlet trailing over my hands, down my forearm…

"I apologize. I've frightened you. But you're not the first," he sighed. He had a lovely voice, soothing and low, and to my confusion, he shrank back into the shadows, disappearing into the darkness. I had thought for sure that the moment he emerged he would hurt me, a vulnerable woman on her own, but all he'd done was shy away, hide in the shadows like a lost child. And, oddly, that struck something in my heart, something deep…

Perplexed, I did not know what to make of him. He had scared the hell out of me no doubt, but he didn't want to hurt me at all. He seemed withdrawn, was possibly just as afraid as I was, and slowly I regained control of myself and straightened my body. Ignoring my uncertainty and the throbbing pain in my left hand, I took a step forward towards where he had once stood.

"Who are you? Come out where I can see you," I murmured softly, hoping the man heard.

When he didn't move, I tried again, louder this time. "Come into the light. Why are you here?" I even considered holding out my hand, but then that would have looked odd.

It felt like forever, but eventually the man emerged once more, his eyes penetrating my own, half his body still cloaked in shadow. And, looking at him for the second time, I realized that indeed he was the exact man from my painting. It was the same mouth, the same haunted eyes, the same ebony hair…

My heart leaped up to my throat as our eyes met. God, he was beautiful. But what was he doing here? He remained silent but our gazes did not move from one another. He had on a worn black T-shirt and ragged jeans, his hair spiky, and I could just make out the bulge of biceps and the outline of his muscled body. I was grateful for the flickering candlelight because it hid the sudden blush that came to my cheeks. Now I knew why I had rejected James.

"H-hi. W-what are you doing here?" I stuttered nervously, keeping a good distance away from him. The room was very narrow, and was probably not a good place for combat. Even though he seemed harmless, I had to keep up my guard.

"This place is nearly forgotten. What are _you_ doing here?" was his reply.

I didn't answer, slightly annoyed that he'd skirted my question, but the man gave a sigh, as if reluctant to respond to my inquiry.

"I needed to be…alone," was his simple reply, and his words stole the breath from my lips.

"Oh. Well, m-me too," I said quickly.

The man looked at me closer, his eyes narrowing, and then his mouth curled up slightly, as if beginning to smile, but he left the expression unfinished. I wished instantly that he would stop looking at me like that. It was like he saw right through me, into me, knew my thoughts, and it sent unexpected shivers up my back. I thought only I was capable of making people feel that way.

"Are you afraid of me?" he whispered.

I decided not to respond, seeing how he knew very well that I was scared mindless. But what astonished me was that his inquiry was genuine and innocent, not arrogant or meant to intimidate. There was no threat, no bitterness or hardness; just the soft, tentative voice of someone wounded.

Had he lived all his life in darkness, like he stood now in the shadows?

Remaining silent, I avoided his gaze and pretended to study the temple paintings again. The silence was unbearable. I felt his eyes on me as if it were physical touch, and I wanted so much to flee, to run, run from the man from my painting. But I remained rooted to the spot, half frightened yet awed and curious, half fascinated that this man, a creature I had thought made only of dreams and acrylic paint, stood skin and bones and blood before me.

Finally, breaking the long silence, I said softly, "I feel like I know you." It was an odd thing to say to a strange man, but it was the truth. I had stared into his face everyday in high school and in my dreams.

"You do? Then you must know my name as well."

"See, that's the funny part. I know your face, but your name…why am I even saying all this? Are you even real?" Another dumb thing to say, but hey, when you're Navajo and an ardent believer in the spirit world, anything can happen.

It was possible that I was just hallucinating. Maybe being away from home so long was taking its toll. Julia Chang had finally lost her mind. It was almost funny, a dark, cruel kind of humor.

"I don't know. You tell _me_ what's real."

I hadn't been expecting that response and for awhile I was tongue-tied. For the first time in my life, I could not read him. Usually in the first couple minutes of contact I can tell somebody's feelings, I know what kind of person they are, but with this phantom, this man standing in the shadows, my mind came up with a blank. He was my first mystery, an enigma, and that only attracted me more to him.

At first I refused to accept that I couldn't read him like a book, like I was used to. My mind kicked into action, flinging out all sorts of possible answers that could maybe match this man. Perhaps he was shy, introverted, misunderstood, and maybe daydreamed a lot. He probably liked to read, liked to be by himself mostly, maybe watched the sunset at night or watched the moon rise through his window. The girls loved him but didn't know how to approach him 'cause he was so distant and quiet. Guys his age kept away from him.

I kept trying to figure him out, but it was no use.

Now that I look at him again, there's something else there too, another side that I can't quite describe. It was like a shadow across his face, the forlorn smile morphing into a malicious sneer, his sad, dark eyes turning into crimson orbs that burned through my skin…or maybe it was just a trick of the light from the sconces. Yeah, must be. Whatever the case, I couldn't figure him out.

"What's your name?" I whispered, taking a tiny step towards him. He didn't answer, and I was beginning to get frustrated. Why was he so damn quiet? His silence was unnerving. I'm a quiet person myself, but this kind of silence was just plain frightening. The "calm before a storm" type of quiet…

When I thought that he'd never answer me, the man finally spoke.

"Jin."

"What?" Had I heard right? Was he—

"My name is Jin."

I stared at him a second longer before stuttering, "Um…Jin…K-Kazama?"

"So you do know my name."

"No, I—"

"It's ok. Lots of people know who I am."

_Not like I do_, I thought. A distant look came over Jin's face, as if he were off in his own world. He'd been through a lot perhaps, seen many things…

Unable to help myself, I looked at him once again. The description fit his name: the strong, muscular build—the body of a fighter; dark features and brooding eyes, Kazuya's hair and nose…and man, he was good to look at too. No wonder the girls at all the tournaments had been sick with adoration.

_"As long as he's related to the Mishimas, he's no friend of ours…"_

My mother had warned me to stay away from the Mishimas, even Jin, but at the moment I didn't care what my mom said. Jin hadn't hurt me; rather he had shied away from me; he looked hurt, like he needed help, and I wanted to find out why. How could he possibly be dangerous? There was still the uncanny fact that he shared the face of the man from my painting, and there was still the possibility of him carrying the notorious Devil Gene—but that only further lured me to him.

"I'm Julia. Julia Chang."

_"…The Mishimas are cursed, and God forbid they hurt my daughter…"_

"Are you afraid of me now, Julia?"

His eyes, hard and cold, peered into mine.

"I…don't know." It was the honest truth.

Jin kept staring at me, but with new eyes. I liked the way he looked at me this time, and I took a few steps closer…

Instinct told me to run but my heart rooted me to the spot. Right then I wasn't sure what it was exactly: genuine attraction or just plain curiosity. I just knew that I was caught in his gaze and wasn't planning to look away any time soon.

_"…it wasn't Heihachi or Kazuya that I should have worried about."_


	6. A Heart Awakened

**Hey guys, I am finally updating. Thanks to all the people who gave such great reviews for chapter 5, your input is greatly appreciated. **

_Sachi_**: Hopefully this chapter doesn't make you gag (lol) but keep in mind that though I dislike this pairing, it's all necessary and an important part of Julia's life.**

_Wine and roses_**: Yeah, I'm thinking about re-posting "Love Found," because people might be wondering about what happens to Julia after "Wanderer." Thanks for the awesome review, by the way. :)**

**So, here goes.**

* * *

**A Heart Awakened **

**Jin**

She was beautiful yes—long dark hair, kind eyes. But no, that wasn't it. That wasn't what made me love her in that instant. I've never felt this way before about a woman…

I grew up in a world of lies, a life built upon fear and betrayal. But when I looked at Julia, all I saw was light. She was honest with me. I heard it in her voice, saw it within her eyes, and it felt nice to finally see goodness in a person instead of deceit. In that moment she had given me a little taste of that life that I could have had, a life beyond what I lived now.

Or maybe it's just because Julia awoke in me a heart I thought incapable of feeling.I can't say I'm not afraid though. I fear what my feelings for her could mean, what they could bring. I'm afraid I'll hurt her. The Gene flows strong within my blood, too strong, and one wrong move could possibly destroy her, like it was slowly destroying me.

The even scarier thing is, lately I've been feeling less and less in control of the demon within me. But I don't want to stay away from Julia, even now when times are getting worse. She may be my last link to sanity, my only hope for goodness. Perhaps she can help me keep the demon at bay.

Still…I have to warn her about myself. Hopefully I won't frighten her away like I have everyone else.

**Julia**

James made me keep my word. I forced myself to go out to dinner with him and a couple friends the night after I'd met Jin at the ruins. I laughed at James' jokes, ate the food, danced a little to the music, pretended that I was having a good old time…but the whole evening all I kept seeing in my head was Jin's face. I felt so guilty too, because if I thought about him, then it was like betraying Mom. Having secret fascinations about the supposed enemy (or whatever it was I felt for Jin) was one of those boundaries you just can't cross, I guess.

I hadn't had any alcohol that night. I was only twenty after all, and I consider myself a law-abiding citizen—no alcohol until twenty-one. Mexico's drinking age was eighteen, but how could I put something into my body that would only make me sick? Nope, no booze for me. However, my peers took full advantage of Mexico's law, and pretty soon I was surrounded by a pack of cackling hyenas, cheeks flushed, eyes glazed over, exaggerated laughter, including James. Disgusted, I gathered my things, set down some pesos for my share of the bill, and left the place.

The night was warm and as soon as I exited the restaurant, I inhaled the clean air. Dark sky above me, the streets still and quiet, I finally had peace. Sighing, I turned to begin the trek down to the hotel where my class was staying. Sure I had enough pesos for a taxi to take me, but I preferred the "old fashioned way": walking. The streets were a little dark, lighted dimly by only a few scattered lampposts here and there, their bulbs flickering, but it was still tranquil. I had nothing to fear. If some punk decided to take advantage of me in the dark, at least I knew I was ready to fight back. I still possessed a clear mind untainted by alcohol, unlike my friends back at the restaurant. With this thought in mind, I considered going back for James to lug his drunken ass home; I didn't want him to get hurt after all. But, after a moment, I shook my head and continued to walk. I'm not his mother after all.

Again, I believed I was alone.

Then, a whisper in the darkness: "It's dangerous to walk alone at night."

Perhaps the punk had already arrived, but my mind told me it wasn't so. I knew it was Jin, but that didn't prevent me from being a little startled. I kept my eyes forward, avoiding his gaze, trying in vain to conceal my alarm, and his dark shadow kept up easily with my brisk pace. I noticed how gracefully he moved, how he seemed to glide upon the ground.

"Well, you sure know how to sneak up on people!" I said, slightly irritated. Yeah, he was fascinating and undeniably attractive, but Jin was still kind of creepy in a way. And what frustrated me further was that, regardless of that, I liked him being here with me. It was wrong, but I enjoyed his presence.

Forgive me, Mother.

I sneaked a quick glance at him, and noticed that his face was solemn, cold and stoic as usual. However, I detected a small smile at the corner of his mouth; yet Jin seemed to resist that smile from fully forming, and I found myself wondering how he'd look like with one on his face. I looked away, obliterating the thought. _For the spirits' sake, Julia, he's a stranger! Stop being so goddamn desperate and trusting!_

"I'm sorry for frightening you. May I walk with you?" he asked softly.

He was so polite. It seemed a little odd, his stiff formality, but I nodded my consent anyway.

"Oh, it's ok, it's just that I wasn't expecting you," I mumbled. Well, no shit I wasn't expecting him.

We were both silent for the rest of the walk, and it was a good kind of quiet. We walked together, just enjoying one another's company, and surprisingly I felt safe with this supposedly cursed, evil child of Kazuya's. He didn't walk too close to me, respecting my space, but I found myself wanting to fill in that empty void. It felt awkward liking a guy, for I had never felt this strongly for one before, and several times I'd think about starting a conversation, going over the words in my head to make sure it all sounded right. But no words ever came out. There was just me and Jin and it felt…_right_.

We finally reached the hotel and Jin walked me to the front door. In the light he was even more handsome and I lowered my eyes shyly. I was about to thank him for walking with me, keeping me safe, but it was Jin who spoke first.

"Thank you, Julia," he murmured.

"For what? I thought that was my line," I replied.

Again there was that slight shadow of a smile. "Thank you for the walk. And I was also thinking maybe…maybe I could see you again."

I was so shocked I must have stood there too long, silent and unbelieving, until Jin finally said goodbye and began to walk away.

"Wait! My classes start at nine a.m. and end at three at the university. After that, I'm free to do whatever," I explained quickly, hoping he'd listen.

Jin simply turned and nodded once.

"Uh, where should we meet?" I asked. What does one do on dates anyway?

"Don't worry about that," he said softly, "I'll find you."

And then he disappeared into the night like a phantom, his ebony form becoming one with the darkness.

* * *

It was hard to believe. Jin did manage to find me the next day after class, but he wouldn't tell me how he'd done it. I mean, I'd never even given the guy directions! But somehow, there he was at the school exit, waiting for me at 3:00 sharp. I guess Jin could have asked the locals for directions, but somehow…somehow it didn't feel that way. When I'd asked him about it he'd just shrugged, took my bag from me without asking, and then we continued our silent walk together. Behind me I could feel James' gaze burning holes through my back. Usually it was he that walked me to the hotel, but it seems now that Jin had taken his place as escort. James was obviously jealous, but he didn't bother to confront Jin about it. Oh well.

It was so strange being with Jin, so unbelievable. It felt like I was in one of those cheesy romance novels that my mom used to read all the time after Han had left. It goes like this: Plain Jane meets mysterious, dark, handsome stranger. Plain Jane and Mysterious Man like each other, they eventually fall for each other, have some troubles near the middle, but then all is good in the end. I started giggling as the thoughts came into my head, and Jin flashed me a questioning glance. When he did, that triggered more laughter on my part, and the poor guy only shrugged and adjusted my backpack onto one shoulder.

He really was quiet. Any other guy would have asked me what was so funny.

"I'll wait out here for you," Jin stated as we reached the hotel. He handed me my backpack and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"Hold on now. What do you mean you'll wait for me? You have plans for us?" I asked, my eyebrows furrowing.

"Yes. But we can't do them unless you put that backpack away."

It was a little strange yes. I didn't even know this guy all that much, only that I was supposed to be staying away from him. How did I know that he wasn't going to take me somewhere and hurt me? Nonetheless, I merely shook my head and entered the hotel.

When I returned, Jin and I continued to walk once more.

"Where are we going?" I asked softly.

I think Jin detected the note of uncertainty and slight fear in my voice, because he abruptly stopped walking. His dark eyes pierced mine, and once again I couldn't look away.

"Julia. You're not afraid of me…but do you trust me?" he murmured.

And surprisingly I found that I did. That part of me was certain. He was a little mysterious, strange, but I trusted him completely.

"Y-yes, I do; I was just wondering that's all," I replied quietly.

Jin bit his bottom lip, and for a brief moment I thought I saw a hint of emotion in that stony face of his. But I blinked once, and the moment was over. Well, he was very talented at concealing his emotions, but what did he have to hide anyway?

"Good. Well, I was thinking maybe we could go down to the market. The Day of the Dead is almost over, and it's something you wouldn't want to miss," he explained.

We spent the rest of the day in the market, and Jin was right. I was glad I hadn't missed the last day of Mexico's Day of the Dead. All of the skull figurines and paintings were a little macabre and grim, but I enjoyed myself still. The people were jovial as usual, children's laughter blending with the festive music, and of course the food was excellent. It was strange though. Maybe it was because of the celebration, I'm not sure, but there were no piropos for me today—or from then on. No men tried to flirt or even dare to look my way.

And, looking behind me, I knew why: Jin. Maybe it was just my imagination, but it seemed as if all the people here were afraid of him. They sensed _something_ in him, something I was unaware of, but they steered clear of him, and, since I was by his side, they avoided me too. It was strange but I didn't think much of it. When night fell, Jin and I eventually strayed from the markets and all along the way we were silent again.

"You didn't seem to be enjoying yourself, Jin," I commented, trying to make him speak. He was a man of few words. Yes, his silence was attractive—he was every bit the mysterious, dark stranger—but sometimes it frightened me. I never really knew what he was thinking, what his opinions were; therefore, I didn't know much about Jin Kazama at all. I didn't like being kept in the dark when I was used to always being ahead a few steps.

"I did enjoy myself, Julia."

"But you were so quiet, I couldn't really tell. You didn't talk to the people, eat the food…are you sure? I'm not a burden am I?"

And then, Jin smiled. He really did. His mouth was closed, but his face immediately softened and his eyes shined with something that hadn't been there previously. All I could do was stare dumbly at his face, at that impossible expression. I had to enjoy it while it lasted, because this man sure didn't smile a lot.

"No, Julia, you got it wrong. I had a wonderful time; I like seeing you happy," he stated casually.

"Oh. I was happy, I guess, I just didn't, you know, well…"

I blushed at his words, ducking my head in an attempt to conceal it. He was sweet that was for sure, but I had yet to get used to it all. At the moment I wished that I possessed Christie's endless supply of confidence. I wasn't used to all of this attention from a man.

To ease the tension, Jin said, "Hey, I know of a place where you get the best view of the stars. Wanna see?"

Before I could answer, Jin had taken my hand, and I swallowed hard as I felt his skin pressed against mine. His grip was strong, but he was gentle as he hurriedly led me away. We seemed to walk for awhile, and the sounds of the festivities from the markets faded as Jin and I found ourselves in a secluded little area. The trees loomed above us, the heat was less stifling tonight, and even when we'd reached our destination, Jin did not let go of my hand.

"Here we are. No one can bother us now. This is the best view, right here," he whispered, looking down at me.

Lifting my gaze skyward, I realized that Jin was right. The stars were beautiful here, the moon even brighter, and the sky was just beginning to turn black. The night cast shadows across Jin's handsome face, and I found myself looking more at him than at the stars.

"Back in the temple you said you knew my name. And do you know also who I am? What's inside me?" Jin murmured without looking at me.

It took me a moment to answer him. He was just as afraid as I was, afraid that if I knew who he truly was, then I'd leave him. But I didn't feel that way. The moment I'd seen him I knew what huge risks I was taking, how deeply I was hurting my mother…yet, sometimes, I believe there is goodness in all things. One just has to take the time to seek it.

And I was seeking it now in him.

"You are Jin Kazama," I replied simply, "and you carry the Devil Gene, don't you? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

Jin swallowed and he finally released my hand. "Yes..."

I turned to him then, my eyes searching his face. Jin refused to make eye contact, but I sensed the difficulty in him doing so. It seemed as if his stony façade was failing as well.

"Well, I won't say that that isn't a little scary, but it doesn't change anything, Jin. Why are you telling me this? Why did you bring me here?"

With his eyes still gazing up at the stars, he replied, "So you'd know what kind of a man you're with. So you can make a choice and leave if you wish, before it's too late."

"Jin, what do you expect to happen? We've just met!"

There was sadness in his eyes, but Jin forced it away. "Exactly. So if you go it'll be painless, like it was all a dream."

All a dream…I was reminded again of the painting.

Licking my lips, I looked up at the stars once more. "Do you want me to leave, Jin?"

The slight breeze kissed my skin and the ebony night finally descended. His eyes never left the sky, but I felt the strong hand grasp mine once more. Jin's warmth seeped into me, and I knew his answer before he voiced it.

"No. I don't, Julia."

It was around midnight when Jin finally took me back to the hotel. The walk was quiet again, as usual, our hands kept to ourselves this time, but there was something new between us. No words were needed to express the emotions, and when Jin left me at the door with a simple "good night" it was just enough.

Once I'd reached my room, I shut the door and took a long shower, remembering Jin's hand in mine. Afterwards I thought I'd watch some TV, but there came a soft knock on my room door. Pulling my bathrobe closer to me I shuffled to the door, opened it, and found James in my doorway.

"James! Can I help you with something?" I said quickly, taking in his grim expression and tousled blonde hair. It looked as if he'd been waiting for me to come back all night.

"It took you long enough to get back. Can I come in?" he asked softly, his voice expressionless but his face betraying him.

"Sure," I replied, stepping aside. What was going on?

After I shut the door, James turned to face me. "Who is that man, Julia? The Asian guy you've been seeing."

"What? That is none of your business!" I replied, appalled that James was openly prying into my personal life.

James only chuckled humorlessly. "Look, I'm glad you've found someone you like, but the thing is, I don't like it."

"You're just jealous."

"I am not—ok, yeah, maybe I am a little. But still, if he were any other guy, I wouldn't care. I'd be happy for you, seriously I would be. A little sad, but happy. But I dunno, Julia, there is something—something _weird_, something _off_ about that man, and I _don't_ like it."

"So?"

"So you should stay away from him!"

"I can't believe this! You can't just come in here and act like you know what's best for me!"

"Julia, listen to me—"

"Good night. It's late and I'm tired, and I don't want to hear anymore."

"Julia—"

"Out, James!"

Tight-lipped and fuming, James reluctantly obeyed me, and he slammed the door on his way out. What the hell was wrong with him anyway? He was just jealous that's all. His anger only motivated me to stay with Jin longer and get to know him. I'd prove that Jin was more than he seemed, that Jin was not the freak James thought him to be.

But as I lay awake in bed that night, I realized that it wasn't just James that I was trying to prove wrong. If I could prove to Michelle, and myself, that Jin wasn't like the rest of the Mishimas, that he was different and harmless, then maybe all of this hatred and tension might cease. But the thing is my mother is almost never wrong; she's got great intuition, and that's what worries me. Should I trust my mother's word, or trust Jin, a supposedly dangerous man I've known only for a day and night?

Remembering Jin's gentle smile, I made up my mind.

* * *

"You like nature, Julia?" Jin asked me three days later.

"Love it."

"Then that makes two of us. I remember the long walks my mother and I used to take. We'd walk through the forest for hours and hours, and I never tired of it."

We'd been together for five days now, and it felt as if I'd known Jin my whole life. He and I shared so much in common; we were both raised by our mothers, our fathers had left us when we were children, and the love for nature was just another one to add to the list.

This was the first time Jin had ever mentioned Jun, and I listened closely, knowing that his mother was dear to him, and knowing that, for the first time, he was finally opening up. I remembered the article in the newspaper about Jun's death six years ago, and as I listened to Jin talk, his eyes alive with his memories, I realized what a terribly sad life he led. That only motivated me further to stay with him.

"You're mom sounds like an incredible lady," I remarked.

Jin smiled slightly. He'd been doing that more often since I'd met him. "Yeah, she really was. You would've liked her a lot, Julia, and she you."

I smiled, and inside I thought, what would _my_ mother think of Jin? Well, I didn't want to think about that now, even though I'd have to tell her sooner or later.

Not once did Jin ever mention his father or Heihachi. He was ashamed of that part of his life, a little sad even, and I never asked him about them. I sympathized with him, for I had experienced loneliness before as well.

Jin's smile disappeared. "But I don't think Michelle would like me, would she Jules?"

Sensing the hurt in his voice, I replied, "Of course she would like you. My mother is very accepting, Jin. It's only Heihachi she hates."

In response, Jin only sighed and took my hand. He knew I was lying, and I felt so bad that I ended up telling him the truth anyway.

"I'm sorry, Jin, it's just that Michelle wants the best for me, but she doesn't know you, and it doesn't mean—"

"Hey, don't worry about it. I understand completely."

"No, I'm really sorry—"

"I said, don't worry, Julia. Be glad, at least, that you have a mother who cares for you like this."

Under his breath he murmured to himself, "I wish I had that…"

He brushed his hand against my cheek, and his smile was forced this time. And I did something I wouldn't have dared to do to a guy, something I thought only Christie capable of doing: I kissed him. I know, pretty pathetic, and it doesn't sound like a big deal 'cause girls kiss guys all the time after all. But for me, this is something huge. I'd never felt anything like this before, and hell, I was so sick and tired of seeing that sorrow in his face, I just had to do something about it.

My mouth rested onto Jin's, our lips meeting smoothly, and although this was my first kiss, it all came naturally. I sensed Jin's hesitation, but gradually he responded and I felt his hands pressing me closer to him. His mouth was soft against mine, slightly moist, and I inhaled Jin's clean scent as the kiss deepened, his embrace becoming tighter. I felt small in his powerful arms, yet safe and loved at the same time, and I knew that no other man could take Jin's place. Jin was the one for me, and after realizing this, I knew then that I loved him. He was so sweet, gentle, kind, and he was the first guy I'd ever allowed into my heart.

Love…what a strange, wonderful feeling. I never thought I'd be able to feel it, and so soon too, and towards the most unlikely of people…but that's how it was. I love Jin Kazama. **(A/N: Remember, this is _necessary_, people! However, no offense to you JinJulia fans: somebody please blind me right now…)**

Eventually the kiss ended, but Jin refused to stop holding me. He smiled softly as he gazed down at me, and I resisted the urge to kiss him again.

"What was that for?" he asked softly.

I only shrugged, but Jin didn't need an explanation. He and I no longer needed words when it came to our emotions. The only thing he did was hold me to him, and everything was understood. It didn't matter that he carried the Gene, it didn't matter what my mother said—

"Ow…"

Jin leaned back slightly to look at me, his face concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing," I replied, and tried my best to ignore the sudden pain in my hand.

* * *

For the next week I couldn't wait until 3:00 arrived. I would sit in my desk, fidgeting and anxious, watching the clock and wishing away the minutes. I could no longer concentrate, had abandoned my studies, and the only highlight of my day was when I would see Jin in the afternoons. When those times finally came, I abandoned my schoolwork and spent the rest of the day with him. Afterwards, I'd often be too tired to study, and would go to class the next day exhausted and unprepared for discussions. Often I noticed Professor Vega eyeing me oddly, but I always ignored him. What did he know about me anyway? He should just mind his own business.

And, strangely, I didn't freak out when grade updates came in and I discovered that I had a B- in that class. I've never had anything below an A- in my life, and the old Julia would have started stressing and studying her ass off that night. But Old Julia left the moment Jin entered my life, so when I saw that B- all I did was shrug and race out the door as Mr. Vega signaled the end of class.

As usual, the man I loved was waiting for me outside, 3:00 sharp, and a smile lightened his face as Jin caught sight of me.

"Hey there, beautiful," he greeted, taking my backpack from me. He kissed me softly on the cheek, and I noticed some of the girls in my class staring in envy. However, I noticed that James was purposely looking the other way. Oh well, forget him.

"So, what do you have planned for us today?" I asked, taking his hand in mine.

Jin smiled slightly. "Do you like to swim, Julia?"

After an afternoon at the beach, Jin and I returned to my room. It was nearing evening, and I invited him in, wanting to spend a few more hours with him. I was pretty stupid at the time. It had never occurred to me that a comfortable bed, plus night, plus love and a handsome man could lead to…well, yeah.

So when Jin began to kiss me a few moments after we'd entered my room, I didn't know how to react except to kiss him back. His mouth traveled to my neck, his touch gentle but urgent and fueled by desire, and his hands were surprisingly talented. I closed my eyes, fully enjoying the moment; he'd never kissed me like this before, and I didn't stop him when his hands crept up my shirt. But when Jin's fingers began to pull at my shorts, I instantly recoiled. Now I knew what this was getting to, and I wasn't sure if that was what I wanted.

"Oh God, Julia, I'm so, so sorry," Jin gasped, and he immediately backed off, though I still detected traces of desire in his voice.

Speechless, I could only stand there, smoothing my rumpled clothing back into place, heartbeat racing. I can't believe I'd been so careless! Yes, I loved this man with all of my heart, and for the past nights I'd been wondering what it would be like if Jin and I made love…but now that the moment had finally arrived, I wasn't so sure.

Sex is not a game to me; it is sacred, something special, only to be shared with someone you love deeply—but didn't I love Jin? Yes. Then why was I hesitant to spend this night with him? Perhaps it was just too quick, too sudden.

"I'm sorry," Jin tried again, and there was a look of genuine remorse on his face. He swallowed hard and looked down at his feet as if ashamed of himself.

Knowing that he was truly sorry, I went to him and hugged him tightly.

"It's ok, it wasn't you. But Jin, I just dunno if I'm ready yet. I love you, but…" I sighed, staring up into his face.

Jin smiled down at me, cupping my face in his hands. "I love you too, Jules, and we don't have to do anything you don't want to do. I'm sorry, I was just so caught up in the moment…"

"It's alright, really it is. Would you like to stay anyway?"

Jin sighed softly and his hands dropped from my face. "It's kinda late, and I think I should get going. See you tomorrow?"

We both knew it wasn't getting late at all, and Jin didn't have any other plans, but the mood was ruined. So, smiling, I nodded and saw him to the door.

After Jin left, I sat on my bed wondering about what had just happened, about what had _almost _happened. What was wrong with me? I loved him, and I'd been curious about it for the longest time…

However, I let it go once I crawled into bed. There would always be other opportunities, and Jin had been sweet about it, patient and understanding. It was no big deal really; all that mattered was that I loved him.

And I think it's time I finally told my mother about Jin. I'm not looking forward to it, but Michelle needs to know. I don't think she'll believe me when I tell her that Jin is a good man regardless of his roots, but it's worth a try.


	7. When Love and Death Embrace

**The proverbs, obviously, aren't mine. **

* * *

**When Love and Death Embrace**

"_Judge not by the eye but by the heart" _–Cheyenne proverb

**Michelle **

When my daughter was but a small child, I used to play the flute for her. She would stare intently up at me, her dark eyes focused in concentration and wonder. Then, later, as the music flowed through her, the notes swelling and dipping with each command of my mouth and fingers, little Julia would close her eyes and rest her head upon my lap. She loved my music, but her passions had always been her brush and her fist.

What I would give to play another song for her once more.

Raising the wooden instrument to my lips, I play again, reviving from its hollowness the memories Julia and I shared. The way she smiled, her soft laughter, the way I used to braid her long hair when she was six…her fifteenth birthday…the red canyon around us, the white sun…the day she left me for college. I play on, letting the notes embrace me in their tender melody, feeling the music from my soul, as if from another place altogether. The wonderful sound brings a tear to my eye and a smile to my lips, disrupting the rhythm of the song.

I am relieved that I can even play today. Last night I had an awful nightmare, one that left me lying awake for a long, long time. I had dreamed that I had taken up my flute, but no sound came forth. I pressed my mouth to the opening, moved my fingers, forced the air from my lungs, but all I played was silence. I could not feel the life of the song, the force of magic, the power and beauty of the notes, and I had felt myself choking on the music, the notes flowing backwards…but most frightening of all, I couldn't see Julia. As the song of my flute died, so too did my memories of my daughter. I'd contemplated seeking Ya'atsos' advice about my dream, but a side of me was hesitant to do so, for I feared what the shamaness might tell me…

My playing was interrupted by the shrill shriek of the telephone. Carefully setting the flute down, I rose to answer it.

"Hello?" I said softly.

"Ama."

My hand tightened on the phone. "A-Aji?"

She'd called; Julia had finally called after all these months! A parent always jokes about being happy to be rid of their children, but in truth, I missed my daughter more than anything. It was enough to hear her voice.

"Hi Mom. How are things?"

"Just fine, and how are you?"

"How's Aunt Cora and Gabe?"

"They're doing great—"

"And Ya'atsos, how is she?"

I could read my daughter like a book, and I noticed almost instantly that she seemed a little nervous when she asked me all these questions. Was Julia truly wondering about the tribe's wellbeing…or was this just an act masking her real motive for calling home? I decided to go along with her little skit.

"Everyone's fine, honey. But how's college? I heard you're in Mexico. How do you like that? Did you practice your Spanish? Do you study every night like you're supposed to—"

"Whoa, slow down, Mom! I'll get to that. College is great, as usual, and Mexico is amazing…"

She told me everything then, about the people, the friends she made, her studies, and the ancient ruins. I had to remind myself that my child was a woman now and no longer needed me to keep watch over her. Still, that didn't stop me from worrying and wondering just a little.

"…and there's this guy named James who likes me, and it gets to be pretty annoying…"

I laughed then. It was no surprise that men were interested. My daughter wasn't just any ordinary Jane after all. "Well of course there are guys now, ha…but wait a minute, are you having sex? Did you have sex!" A part of me was teasing her slightly, but another side of me was reminded of a younger Michelle Chang and her lover…

"Mom!" Julia exclaimed, but she hesitated as I said the words, and I waited for her to speak.

Finally, my daughter replied, "No, Ama, there was no, uh, sex…but there _is_ another man…"

She described him first, and I noticed right away how she avoided his name. Apparently her object of affection was tall, brooding, attractive, and mysterious, and she supposedly loved him. But as I listened to the pure love in my daughter's voice, I worried for her even more, because I'm not even sure if Julia knows what love is. Boys have always been unimportant to her while she grew up, and, thanks to me and her father's broken relationship, Julia's always been a little cynical about love. But now this man comes along, and how do I know he's not just using her? How do I know that Julia isn't just grabbing anyone that takes interest?

And most importantly, if he breaks her heart, then what? Maybe I'm just being overly protective, but I couldn't suppress the thoughts.

When Julia had finished, I said, "Well that sounds great, Aji, but you still haven't told me his name."

"I did," she insisted firmly, but I detected a slight quaver in her voice. Please don't lie to me, Julia…

"No, you didn't."

"I swear I did."

"Julia," I warned, my voice lowering, knowing the old trick she was playing. She sighed on the other line, and I wondered why she was afraid to tell me. Suspicion took over. Did I even want to know the answer when Julia herself feared telling me?

"Mama, the man I'm—the man I'm talking about is J-Jin. Jin Kazama."

I nearly dropped the phone then. Had I heard correctly? Please let it be wrong…

"Excuse me?" I asked, fighting to maintain my composure.

"Jin Kazama."

"Kazuya and Jun's? Heihachi Mishima's grandson?"

"Y-yeah…Mom, I knew you wouldn't approve!" Well, what had she expected when she called me?

Something snapped within me then, the maternal instinct came on overdrive, my hand tightened on the phone, knuckles white with fury and face hot with rage and fear, my heart sinking in despair.

Oh no, oh no, please. Not yet, not now…and isn't it ironic? Of all the billions of men in the world, it just had to be Jin Kazama. My legacy of hardship with his family might not die after all…or could it?

I wouldn't allow Julia to be another prey to fall into the Mishima web. After all my attempts to protect her, after all that I have fought for, all that could be taken away with one man. Having been preoccupied with Heihachi, Kazuya, and Ogre, I had failed to notice the true threat, the subtler danger that was Jin Kazama. Since her birth, I'd vowed to protect Julia, and I would not fail now.

"_What!_ Julia, what the _hell_ do you think you're doing? Come home _now!_"

It was the wrong thing to say, but the rage and fear was too overwhelming; reason and composure had been abandoned. All her life Julia has been strong-willed and independent, and she hated it when people told her what to do.

"How dare you speak that way to me! You don't know Jin!"

"Be quiet, I'm your mother, goddammit! I know enough to say that he's dangerous! I've told you this numerous times; I thought you were smarter than this!"

"I love him, Mother." What frightened me was the note of finality in her voice, as if, no matter what I said, no matter how much I warned her, all of it would mean nothing.

I let loose a string of Navajo obscenities then, and I could almost see Julia cringe on the other line. I'd never let her hear me speak this way until now. But soon the anger abated and desperation set in. Somehow, someway, I had to make her understand. I had to convince her to abandon Jin, because if she didn't now, then my past of pain and hardship with the Mishima family would continue to haunt Julia.

"Julia, please. I'm begging you. You don't know what kind of family he comes from! If you stay, you'll only get hurt, and by the spirits, Ajijawk, I am not going to lose you. You can't trust Jin."

"Stop acting like you know what's best for me. I'm an adult now!" She was that stubborn thirteen-year old again, not the clear-headed woman she was supposed to be.

"That's because I _do_ know, Julia, don't you get it? You must not trust that man!"

This time Julia was silent and my heart sank further.

"Honey, I know you want someone to love, but why him? There are so many other men out there to choose!"

"Mother, you don't know him. He's not the monster you believe him to be; Jin is a good man, Ama," she explained calmly, and I knew I'd already lost her.

She didn't yet understand that it wasn't just the boy himself who was dangerous. Even if he was indeed harmless like Julia described him to be (which I highly doubted he was), his family sure as hell wasn't. If Jin didn't hurt her directly, then it was certain that Kazuya or Heihachi would find a way to do it.

"_Dooda_! Listen to me: as soon as you look away, as soon as you give in, he will _hurt you_. _They _will hurt you. Please, Julia, just come home." **(A/N: 'dooda' means no)**

"I'm sorry, Ama."

The line went dead, and I was left standing there in the kitchen, knowing my daughter was doomed. Was she so blind? Was she so naïve and stupid? After all that I have told her, after all the warnings, after all this time…

And the worst thing was that I was powerless to do anything. I didn't know where Julia was, what the Mishima's motives were, nothing. I could only wait and pray. And when I picked up my flute again, I found that my nightmare became reality. I was met only by silence.

**Julia**

I was a stupid child, an idealistic, disillusioned girl that believed she knew everything already. I remember that phone call as if it were only yesterday. I can recall the desperation in my mother's pleads, the love, the fear, the worry…it was the last time I'd ever hear her voice. If only I'd listened…but then again, it was _because_ I did not heed my mother's warning that I am where I am today.

Back to my story.

Angry and disappointed, I'd slammed the phone back onto its cradle and made my way out of school. My pace quickened, my jaw clenching painfully, and I knew that only Jin could make me feel better. Damn her! Why couldn't she understand? Meeting Jin was one of the best things that ever happened to me, so why couldn't she just be supportive? But what had I expected, a warm welcome and smiles? She'd only been warning me of the Mishimas since I was old enough to speak after all.

"Julia."

If that was one of my stupid study group members again, then they—

But as I turned, I realized that it was Professor Vega that had called for me, and I watched as his stubby form hurried down the hall towards me. He smiled stiffly, one of those fake smiles that held no warmth, and inside my heart sank. I already knew what this was going to be about and at the moment academics was the last thing I wanted to deal with. However, I plastered a smile to my face, which I hoped passed as polite and pleasant.

"Hi, Mr. Vega," I greeted, readjusting the glasses on my nose.

"Could we talk in my room?" he asked, beckoning with his hand.

"Sure." Damn.

Once we were enclosed in the privacy of his room, Mr. Vega turned to face me, his face grim. He folded his hands in front of him and looked me in the eye. Though he was slightly shorter than I was, I felt tiny in his gaze.

"Julia, you are one of my best students. Straight A's all the time," he began, and I lowered my eyes to the ground.

My teacher continued. "But right now, if you haven't checked, you're pulling a C plus. It's an advanced placement class, no doubt it's gonna be challenging, but you, Ms. Chang, you are capable of an A and beyond. What's going on?"

"Please, Mr. Vega…" I began, wanting to escape his disappointed gaze. Jin would be waiting…

Then, out of nowhere, Mr. Vega blurts, "James tells me there's a man you're seeing."

My eyes met his, my mouth curling into a sneer. Of course. James. I should have known he'd tell Vega, the nosy bastard.

"Yes, I am seeing someone, but I assure you that he is not the source of my poor grades," I said slowly, as if speaking to an imbecile. Mr. Vega wasn't pleased, but he didn't comment on my disrespect.

"Really now? Well, I won't pry, but all I want to say to you is that I'm worried. You're a very intelligent woman, Julia, and you're heading the right way…but if you need someone to talk to, know that I'm always here," he said with a sad smile, and I nodded.

"Thanks, Mr. Vega, but I think I'm fine," I replied curtly, and walked out.

What is up with people these days? First James, then Mom, now my teacher…I sighed heavily as I exited school. Only Jin understood me.

When I finally arrived outside, I discovered that Jin wasn't there waiting for me. That's strange. Everyday he's always out here at three, waiting to walk me home…well, maybe something came up. But as I began to walk to the hotel alone, I wondered, What _does_ the guy do when we're not together anyway? I'd never bothered to ask. He never mentioned a home he went to, or a job, if he had one…but then again, this is Jin Kazama. Shrugging, I forget about it. That's ok. Just as long as he comes later on, it's no big deal.

It's a nice afternoon. The sun was shining beautifully, the weather wasn't too hot, but I instead decide to just relax in my room for once. Discarding my backpack onto the ground, I removed from the little fridge a small carton of vanilla ice cream and settle down onto the bed to watch some news.

As the news anchors rambled off in what I call "machine gun Spanish," (they talk so fast it's sometimes hard to understand all of it) I think about my mother and my conversation earlier. I hate fighting with my mother, but then again, she could have been a little more understanding. This is my first love after all! But I can see why she's so concerned, and she only loves me. Still…I wish there were some way I could prove to her that Jin wasn't all that he seemed.

"…_hombres se llaman Mateo Rodriquez y Eduardo Sanchez estan muertos_…"

My attention returns to the TV screen, and I listen intently as the Latino woman reports her story. Apparently there'd been two murders, and both men, Mateo and Eduardo, had been mutilated beyond recognition. I stared down at my vanilla ice cream, which I no longer had a stomach for, and returned it to the fridge. Fear rippled through my body as the news reporter continued, stating that the murders had occurred not ten miles from where I was staying. So now there was a killer on the loose? It was time to hone those martial arts skills again, I guess. No doubt my martial arts is second nature to me, but I hadn't trained in nearly a month, and I gazed over at my untouched leather gloves…maybe later.

Afraid and not wanting to hear more, I turn the TV off with a flick of the remote. Now would be the time where I would take out my textbooks and notes to study, and hopefully change that C to an A, or a B plus at the least, but my mind kept getting sidetracked. It kept shifting back to Jin and his gentle smile, to his soothing voice and dark eyes. So, instead of studying, I sat on my bed for a long time, perhaps for hours, who knows, wondering and waiting for Jin to visit, daydreaming about holding him again…for the rest of the night, my schoolwork lay untouched. Old Julia would have stressed out, lay awake reviewing the new information she'd recently learned…but that girl was gone. Yawning, I head for the bathroom.

It wasn't until I was showered and preparing for bed, which was around 11:45, that Jin finally decided to make an appearance. He stood in my doorway, shirtless and barefoot, spiky hair disheveled and dark circles under his eyes. After giving him a quick once over, I realized that for the first time since that night in the temple, I felt anxious and uncertain when I looked at him. What had he been doing? I'd never seen him like this before.

"Jin?" I asked, recoiling slightly, and I found myself hiding behind the door. Was it my imagination, or had there been a flash of crimson in those dark irises of his?

"Can I come in?" he rasped, one strong hand already on the knob. He didn't wait for my consent and simply barged in.

"Uh, sure," I murmured, annoyed, and shut the door behind him.

"Sorry, I'm a little late," he said, sitting down on my bed. Yeah, just a _little_ late. It would have been better if he hadn't come at all, I think to myself with a small yawn. Looking at him once more, I noticed that his eyes were bloodshot and sweat clung to his skin like water. For a moment I had nothing to say to him, and I couldn't stand to be near him—the man reeked of…I dunno what. I just knew that it made the bile in my stomach rise to my throat, and I suppressed the urge to vomit.

Jin then flashed me an eerie, disturbing smile, and he pulled me to him, pressing me against his bare chest. It should have been a good experience, seeing how he's got one of the best bodies on a man, but I found it rather repulsive. His wet skin dampened my robe, and he covered me in his overpowering stench. I pretended not to notice when Jin tried to kiss me, and gently, I disengaged myself from his arms. However, now that I'd been even closer to his skin I now recognized the scent. The realization hit me full force, and I felt the cold fear spread icy fingers across my skin. _Run, run_, my mind whispered.

"What's wrong Jules?" he asked, and his voice was no longer soothing. It was more like a growl, feral, predatory…

My mother may seem like a gentle, soft-spoken woman at first meeting, but do not forget that she is also a merciless martial artist. To add to that, Michelle is a fierce hunter and tracker, and she specializes in buffalo. There aren't many herds of buffalo in Arizona, so sometimes my mother will make this huge trip with the men of my tribe and go to the Great Plains states, where larger herds roam. Don't get me wrong; Michelle loves Mother Earth as any Navajo does, but sometimes I questioned her love for me when she hunted. She truly enjoyed killing wild beasts (I never understood it) but anyway, as a child, I remember her carting home a couple of these massive dead buffalo for dinner every now and then.

"You know," I'd said when I was twelve, "there's a grocery store right down the road, Ama."

And Michelle would only smile and plunge her little knife into the buffalo's gut. It was a gruesome experience, the skinning and cleaning of the beast. First my mother would take her knife and rip off the heavy coat of the buffalo, tearing and pulling, until the poor thing was only a pink, red, bloody mess. Then, came the gutting. Shuddering, I recall the long intestines as they spilled to the red ground, the scarlet blood staining the gray stones. It was never the sight of the organs and death that affected me, but the stench.

It was a raw, acrid smell, and so powerful it was like a punch in the face. I wasn't sure what it was exactly; it might have been the blood, the raw organs, or maybe just the overall smell of death. I vowed never to become a buffalo hunter after that.

My point of this grisly tale? The man I loved smelled like that buffalo. Jin reeked of death.

"Julia, what's wrong?" Jin asked me again, and I could only shake my head. He attempted to embrace me once more, and in response, I vomited all over the floor.

"I'm…I'm sick," I gasped as I retched once more. Well, that was true, but for all the wrong reasons. Some of my sickness was due to the incredible fear in the pit of my stomach, another to Jin's smell—and the other part due to my mother's warning earlier. What _had_ Jin been doing all this time? And those dead men on TV…no…wait a second…

Jin fetched the trash bin and placed a sympathetic hand on my back as I emptied my stomach. I wished he wouldn't touch me at all, but I was at the mercy of my body now and I hadn't the voice to tell him.

When my retches had abated, I washed my mouth and brushed my teeth. I resisted the urge to take another long shower, but I emerged from the bathroom with a slight smile on my face. Maybe if I pretended I was ok Jin would just leave. But for an hour or so Jin lingered, talking about nonsense, watching TV, and after awhile I'd had enough.

"Jin, I heard on the news today that two men are dead. And you just happened to be late today…anything you wanna tell me?" I asked, trying for the innocent voice, but I noticed the way he stiffened beside me.

"A tragic accident, nothing more," was his vague response, but I wouldn't let him get away with it. It was risky, possibly even stupid, but Jin carried the Devil Gene and hadn't been here on time. And with two recent deaths, could it all just be a big coincidence? Maybe. But my heart knew better.

"Don't lie to me. You killed those men didn't you? Or was it the Devil?" I whispered, pulling my robe closer to me.

This time, his eyes did flash red momentarily, but I noticed how Jin winced, as if in pain. He was fighting it, wasn't he? The Devil Gene? For the first time I was beginning to understand.

"No…it wasn't me…" he rasped, and he bit his lip.

"It was the Gene then," I replied, "but it was still your body, Jin, _your_ hands. Oh God…oh my _God_…"

Michelle had been right…

"Julia, no, wait—"

"Don't touch me! Get away!" I cried, slapping away his hands.

Angered by my fear and rejection, Jin emitted a sound I had no idea a human being was capable of uttering. But then again, he wasn't human at all was he? No, Jin was something else altogether. I did not yet fully understand the extent of Jin's demon blood, or the danger I was in, but at the time the fear was too great for me to comprehend anything.

"NO! I said it _wasn't me_! I'm not a killer!" he screamed and his hand lashed out, gripping my throat.

Taken by surprise, I struggled in his vice-like grip for a moment, gasping for air, but instinct took over not long after. Clenching my teeth in rage, I swung my right arm over Jin's arm that was choking me. Twisting, I brought it back, slamming my elbow into his own, and I heard a satisfying crunch as his bone broke beneath my strike. Jin cried out, and I rolled out of the way, robe billowing about my legs as I took up my fighting stance.

Recovering from his momentary pain, Jin glared at me, charged, and lifted his good arm…and lowered it a moment later. Breathing heavily, the man I loved staggered clumsily backwards away from me. His face was a mask of sorrow and confusion, his eyes blinking back the tears, the look of madness vanished, and he collapsed to the ground on his knees. Jin gazed down at his trembling hands, the long fingers spreading wide…was he just realizing what he had done? What those beautiful, terrible hands had done?

He was Jin Kazama again, that fragile, wounded man I'd met in the temple again, and, lowering my fists, I went to him. I knew now that beneath the demon lay a human being, a simple, good, kind man. He suffered terribly, and I knew that he had no control over his actions once the Gene took over. And despite my initial fear, I still loved and wanted to help this man.

But Jin wouldn't have it. He flung me away, crying, "No! Stay away! I'm sorry Julia, I'm so, so sorry…"

And with that, he left, and I remained sitting alone on the floor, afraid and worried, confused yet curious at the same time.

The smell of death still lingered in the room.

* * *

He was a killer. He was half demon, Kazuya's son, part of the Mishima bloodline…and he was also the man I'd given my heart to. That wasn't about to change. I'd witnessed it firsthand, right here in my room. I had seen Jin's darkness, his demon side, and no doubt it was frightening and dangerous. But I had also seen his humanity, his good side, buried deep beneath the Gene.

If I could find a way to strengthen that light within him, if I could help Jin overcome his darkness, then maybe he and I could be happy. Maybe then my mother would accept him. One thing was for sure: I still loved him. No matter how scary, no matter how dangerous he became, he was still my Jin Kazama, and I was determined to help him. To hell with Kazuya and Heihachi. Forget Michelle.

Jin needs me now and I him, and that's all that matters.


	8. Deception

**So now I'm finally updating! Thanks for being patient, and _Xiaoinlover_ get your head out of your ass. Hahaha you're pathetic...anyway, so here's chapter 8, and review if you can. **

**As usual, the lyrics and quote at the bottom is not mine, nor is Namco's Tekken characters.**

* * *

_Heartache's knocking on her door_

_Shadows dance outside her window_

_Tears keep falling on the floor_

_As the world around her crumbles…_

_Love can be as cold as grave_

_A one-way ticket to endless sorrow,_

_An empire of gentle hate_

_Today we bury tomorrow…_

"Circle of Fear" by HIM

* * *

**Deception **

**Jin**

The dim street lamp sputters with a half-hearted sigh and then dies, leaving me in the gloom of the darkness. Not that it mattered anyway—my vision was perfect, regardless if it was night or day. The elbow that Julia had broken heals in a matter of minutes, the bone mending together until it was as flawless and strong as before. No doubt it had hurt when she struck me, but it was the equivalent of a mere scratch.

Once again I stare down at my hands...I could have killed her. I could have torn her apart like I did those two men. I'm lucky I got away in time before she got to see the full extent of the monster inside me. But those men weren't, for I destroyed them without a thought, without a moment's hesitation. It was mindless, reasonless, just all out cold blood, and I can still remember their begging, begging, pleading for mercy, eyes wild with the realization that oh yes, they were going to die that night. Their blood had tasted of fear, their sweat had reeked of it, and I had enjoyed taking their life, but I don't remember what or how it happened. I just knew for sure that I was responsible. Was that really me doing all of those horrible things?

"Stop playing around. You can't deny it forever."

I pretended not to hear his voice and continued to walk down the deserted street, the remnants of Julia's whimpers of fear still echoing in my ears…

"_Kazama Jin!"_

Knowing that he wouldn't stop badgering me unless I answered, I reluctantly stopped walking, trying my hardest to suppress the fury that threatened to erupt.

"What do you want, Heihachi?" I snarled, my fists clenching. Already I could feel the demon's wings beginning to form, but I fought the Gene back, postponing my transformation until I knew it was safe. When I became a demon it was as if Jin Kazama had never existed, and I wanted to make sure that I was absolutely alone before letting it take over me. I already had enough blood on my hands as it was.

I hate feeling so goddamn powerless.

The gray-haired man stepped forth from the shadows, his eyes hard and cold. He was a traitor, a low-life, a lying, manipulative bastard. Once he had trained me, and I had actually believed once that I loved him. Now, all I saw were lies; he had poisoned my life.

Narrowing my eyes, I faced Heihachi, wondering how he had found me, yet not too surprised that he'd managed to track me down. Only death could stop the bastard from getting what he wanted.

"I said, stop playing around. You're just wasting your time with that bitch," he growled.

In the past I would have grabbed him then and pummeled him senseless. But now I knew that it'd all be a waste of my time. Instead, I continued to walk.

"Stay out of my life. You've already ruined it enough," I growled, turning my back on him.

Heihachi laughed then, a throaty, scratchy sound that made me cringe slightly.

"Baka! Just like your father. Look at how long Jun lasted! She was nothing but a worthless _baita_!" **(A/N: baka: fool; baita: whore)**

This time, I did grab Heihachi. Nobody speaks of Jun that way while I'm around. "Say that again, old man," I snarled, my fist inches from breaking his nose.

Heihachi merely flung me off with a simple jerk of his arm; I had forgotten how strong he actually was, regardless of his age. That single blow was enough to make me stumble, my knees weak, and I suddenly bent over, coughing uncontrollably. A second later I vomited, and I could feel my wings threatening to break loose. I had a feeling that this wasn't from Heihachi's blow. He sensed it also, and smiled.

"The Gene is getting harder to control I see…but you know I'm right, Jin. History repeats itself. No matter how far you run, you can't ever escape."

"Go to hell," I wheezed, regaining control, but only slightly.

But Heihachi was relentless. "Stop wasting yourself with this foolishness. It is the mother, not the young, who holds the true value!"

"What do you mean by that?" I snarled, my voice becoming dangerously soft.

Something shifted in Heihachi's eyes, but he dismissed my inquiry. "Nothing Jin, I meant nothing. Just believe me when I say that there are more important matters at hand."

I laughed then, a derisive, bitter sound. "After all your lies you still expect me to _believe_?"

Heihachi's expression grew grim. "I know how much you desire to be rid of the Gene. I can help you, Jin," my grandfather murmured, taking a step towards me, but I recoiled from him.

"Stay away. I want nothing to do with you," I hissed.

"What if I told you there might be a cure?"

The wings began to sprout regardless of my efforts to contain them. "Bullshit. I'd rather you shoot me, like you already did once. I've looked everywhere; there is no cure."

Heihachi ignored my comment. "Kazuya thinks he might have found one."

My eyes narrowing, I whipped around to face him. "_What?"_

The old man smiled slowly, knowing he had caught my interest at last. "Hai, Jin. Your tosaan is so desperate you see. Kazuya actually believes that he has found an antidote, and he seeks it as we speak. Come with me, and you may see for yourself. I will tell you more on the way."

It was all a trick, it had to be; there was no cure for the Gene. I'd been everywhere searching for one, and Mexico was just another dead end to add to the list. One side of my mind warned me not to fall for one of Heihachi's lies again. I wasn't fifteen anymore after all, yet I found myself interested nonetheless. It was stupid and foolish, but I couldn't help it. I was that pathetic, that _desperate_, and my desire to end this suffering was so strong that no matter how great my fear and doubt, I decided to trust Heihachi this one last time.

"I'm listening…" I murmured.

**Julia**

_"You must not trust that man…he will hurt you…"_

Another man was dead, killed in the same way, and only a bloody mess remains as proof of his former existence. The other was in the hospital, and, glancing at the TV screen once more, I am reminded that it was James' face that smiled back at me. According to the news, James suffered major lacerations, severe blood loss, head trauma, and had nearly died. I knew it was Jin before they mentioned any fancy theory of a wild beast on the loose. With my peer now in the hospital, with more deaths, the time was right for me to leave, regardless of the unfinished school year or my love for Jin. I should have left immediately without another moment's hesitation…but, obviously, I didn't. There was still that foolish hope burning within my heart, that faith that perhaps there was still a chance, that maybe I could help Jin overcome his evils…or maybe that wasn't it at all. It was possible that, after all this time, I was just being selfish and stubborn, the rebellious daughter out to prove something, because for once in my life, I didn't give a damn about what Michelle and the others thought of me. Who cares if my mother is worried out of her mind? This was my time to be happy, mine alone, and I'm tired of people trying to control me.

All of my life I've been a dutiful, selfless girl. I've always put others before me, always considered their thoughts before acting, and I've never had that opportunity to feel what it's like to have something of my _own_. Even my martial arts was a thing of Michelle's, not mine. The only thing I can think of that was completely and utterly mine was my painting, and believe me, that isn't even close to being enough.

But maybe now I've found something that can fulfill that emptiness of mine and that was my love for Jin Kazama. Nobody can take that away from me.

The silver was duller now; the amber had lost some of its former sheen, yet the ring on my finger had still managed to retain its beauty. And the scar on the hand beneath it was faint, faded, a tiny white shadow on tan skin, but still there all the same, reminding me of that strange day in the cave two years ago. The sun was shining, the rays peeking in from the tainted glass windows, the heady fragrance of the bustling city enticing me with its promise of freedom and escape…and there was the dead man's face on the TV screen, his blood pooled around the sweet-scented flowers.

The Yin and Yang. Crane and coyote.

_Run, run…_

I glanced at the TV once more. James and the dead man smiled back. Heading for the closet, I slip on my jean jacket and swiftly braid my hair, pulled on my boots and stared at the woman in the mirror. Christie called me smart, and James called me kind. Jin called me lovely, and Michelle called me her daughter. And I…I didn't know what to call myself, or exactly who I'd become. I just knew that the woman in the mirror repulsed and intrigued me.

Had the crane forgotten how to fly?

She was changing, that Julia I once knew, and I saw it for the first time. Michelle, James, and even my damn teacher had realized it before I had; I had been too blind all this time. I did not know what to make of her, this new woman I was quickly becoming, but the scariest part was that I did not know how to stop her from taking over. She was a woman who saw no reason, who, blinded by her love and naivete, would risk everything for one little pleasure in her life. I knew all this, and yet I stayed in Mexico. I had known all this, and yet I did not change, and allowed the pain to take place…

Digging out the contents of my jeans pocket, I made sure I had enough money to buy flowers and perhaps a card. I hoped James liked marigolds or lilies, 'cause that's probably all the _mercado_ was selling now.

I tried to remain serious, to remain composed and mature, I really did. That's what I was good at. But for the first time since my fight with Christie in ninth grade, I started to cry. Silent sobs of despair and lost hope, of love and longing, of shame and guilt, of fear and confusion…it didn't last long, though the turmoil within me would last for much, much longer afterwards. Swiping away at the wetness on my cheeks and after washing my face, I left the hotel and headed for the hospital, vowing never again to succumb to the tears that reminded me of my weaknesses.

* * *

"Why did you come here?"

James' frail whisper is barely audible, and his voice was sad, almost resentful in a way. I averted my gaze, and I was thankful that half of his face was wrapped up in heavy gauze. He wouldn't want to know that it was guilt that brought me here, that those flowers on his bedside table were as good as dead, for they meant nothing when I gave them to him. I didn't tell James what that creature was that had nearly taken his life, or that I had anything to do with it. Compassion was not the true motive behind my visit. I just wanted to make sure that the blonde man was relatively all right, so that I did not feel too much guilt if he had died. It was one less thing on my conscience that I had to worry about.

"I wanted to see if you were ok," I replied softly, taking his hand. James winced, not from his wounds, when our skin made contact; I instantly recoiled. However, James reached out slightly and recaptured my fingers, his hand warm, and my icy skin greedily devoured his heat.

"Wait Julia…J-just keep your hand there. Please? Just until I fall asleep," he rasped, and I nodded.

He was afraid. He was trying so hard to appear calm and brave, but the trembling hand in mine revealed his true emotions. James' soft breath on the pillow and the frail hand gripping mine reminded me of a wounded bird I once found in my backyard as a child, one of its pale wings twisted awkwardly, and the memory unexpectedly stirred that compassion in my heart. Maybe there was still some of that former Julia in me yet.

I stayed with James and did not ask him anything pertaining to his attack for I'm sure he didn't want to relive the nightmare. James hadn't deserved this pain, and as I watched him sleep, warm hand in mine, there awakened in me a sadness and anger that I'd never felt before. One thing was sure: I had to find a way to make Jin stop this madness, and soon.

A half-hour passed, and gently, I began to remove my hand from his grasp. I thought he'd been asleep the whole time, but James suddenly stirred and his hold tightened.

"I still care about you, Julia Chang," he murmured, his cracked lips turning upwards in an attempt at a smile.

"Oh, James, please don't…"

"I'm not going to. You've made your choice. But just be—just be careful, ok? And be happy."

"I am happy," I smiled, trying to reassure him.

James' eyes filled with sorrow, as if saddened that I would lie to him. Swallowing my guilt, I flashed him another artificial grin.

"I'll be fine…but I don't know about you, Julia," he said.

"I don't understand."

James sighed softly, his blue eyes peering deeply into mine. "Be careful, Julia," he said again, "you've changed so much…"

Then, the blonde man finally fell into slumber, his fingers slipping away, leaving my hand cold and empty.

* * *

James was released a couple weeks later, and in that time I hadn't seen Jin, not even once. Every night I obsessed over him, worried sick, unable to sleep, watching the door, wondering, waiting for his arrival…I should have realized that my "love" was no more than a petty infatuation. But, after all, I was only twenty and was blind to reality and my own intuition. I was too curious about what loving a man really felt like.

But…was this love? It had all happened so quickly.

And he finally came, one late Friday evening as the sky turned dark. This time he'd tried to conceal his haggard appearance by putting on a shirt (which was inside out, but I didn't mention anything) and he'd forced a smile to his face upon entrance.

"Hey, love," he croaked, shutting the door behind him.

Crossing my arms, I turned to face him; I had no time for his little game of innocence today. You can do this, Julia, you can do this...

"We have to talk, Jin."

His face grew solemn, the smile dropping from his mouth. "Julia we're not—we're not breaking up…are we?"

I smiled humorlessly. "I'm afraid it's much bigger than that."

Relief spread across his face, and Jin instantly relaxed. The fake smile reappeared. "You're not gonna ask me where I've been? Don't you miss me?"

"We'll get to that soon enough. Sit down."

Only a small lamp on my nightstand lighted the room, and the dim glow cast jagged shadows across Jin's handsome face. It was an eerie effect, and I had to force myself to keep eye contact. The room had smelled clean when Jin had walked in, but my memory pulled forth the dead buffalo…

"I love you, Julia. Don't forget that, ok?"

I smiled wryly. He was still insecure, human or demon, still afraid of loneliness. It was nice to see that in him, because it proved that he still retained at least some of his humanity. But there was still a long ways to go yet.

"Yeah, well, you know I love you too. But, I'm afraid, Jin. I'm not gonna lie to you."

"Of what?"

_Of you…and yet I still love you, trust you…_

"Um…"

"You can tell me. I'm here to protect you."

I met his gaze. Was he just playing around, trying to be funny? Or was he truly oblivious? I mean come on; wasn't it obvious what I feared?

"Can you protect me from yourself?" I whispered. The cliché question, but I really needed an answer at the moment.

Jin holds his head in his hands and sighs deeply, finally understanding. Each day I see him there is less and less of that Jin Kazama that I'd fallen for, less of that gentle smile and sweet laughter. He was like a spiritless, empty shell, a stranger. I still loved him, but he made me uneasy, wary, and it was as if I was back in the temple again.

_"Are you afraid of me now, Julia?"_

_"I…don't know…"_

"I'm going to fix things, Jules, just give me time. I know I frighten you sometimes, and I'm sorry, really I am, but I can't control it. You have to understand that," he sighed, his expression pained.

"What do you mean 'fix things?' And why are you here in Mexico anyway? Somehow, you've never seemed to fit," I said coldly, turning to face him. Why had I never asked him this before?

_The crane believes she flies, but rather, she is only bound in the coyote's jaws…_

Jin hesitated, as if trying to decide whether or not he wanted to give me the truth or a fancy fabrication. It didn't matter; I could detect any lie he flung my way.

After a long moment, Jin decided to take the honest route. "You know this wasn't my choice. I didn't choose or want to be this way."

"I know, but that doesn't mean I understand your story any better," I replied.

He hesitated briefly once more, but then Jin pressed his lips together and responded, "Julia, I'm here in Mexico looking for a cure. When the Gene worsened, became harder to control, I decided that I needed to take matters into my own hands. If I wanted to get better, then it was only up to me. I don't have anyone else."

So he was looking for a cure. But what exactly did he expect to find? A little green vial labeled "Devil Gene Antidote"? **(A/N: Little did Jin know that the antidote's been in front of him the whole time…readers of _Love Found_, you know what I mean).**

I nodded, understanding a little more now. "Ok, so you're looking to get cured…but that still doesn't explain your sudden disappearance for two weeks."

Jin shrugged then, and I sensed the lie before he voiced it. Leaning in close, I raised a finger to his lips.

"Be careful. Tell me the truth, Jin, or don't say anything at all," I whispered, "I'm not too fond of liars."

And the disheartening part was that the Japanese man chose silence.

Pushing the fury and frustration aside, I said, "I know that that blood within you is uncontrollable; but Jin, the murders have to stop. _Now_."

"I'm trying."

"No, you're not."

"Then if you're such an expert, why don't you tell me what I should do! Stop trying to talk about something you don't understand!"

"_I_ don't understand? I don't even think _you_ understand anymore than I do!"

"Shut the fuck up!"

Speechless, I could only sit there in silence, watching a man I thought I once knew. Jin's eyes were wild, bloodshot, his skin dotted with sweat, teeth bared like a coyote, but after a moment, he breathed in deeply, regaining control of himself. Jin raked shaky fingers through his spiky hair and blinked furiously.

"I'm sorry, Julia. You're right, but it's just that I've already tried everything. Really, I have. And nothing's worked."

"I can help you," I murmured after recovering from his violent outburst.

He looked away sadly. "Well…you already are, in a way."

I sat back, perplexed. "How so?"

Jin moved towards me, cupping my face between his large hands. "You showed me goodness. You gave me your heart, and I thank you for that."

The way he said it would have made any other girl flattered and weak at the knees, but under these current circumstances, it just wasn't that romantic. His mouth felt cold as it pressed against my forehead, and I moved away, fists clenching.

_Run…run damn you!_

"W-What were you doing tonight, Jin? Where were you these past weeks? I can't take the silence for an answer," I whispered, my body beginning to shiver. The room had grown icy cold.

Jin met my inquiry with a steely gaze, his mouth hardening into a thin line, face suddenly stoic and unreadable. I didn't know what was worse: Jin's sudden bursts of fury, or his cold, mysterious silences that offered no hint to his thoughts and feelings.

He stood up from his seat on my bed, and I saw the slight outline of his chest muscles beneath his shirt as he moved, his powerful body oddly graceful, a sleek panther in the brush. A month ago it would have been a major turn on, but right now I felt like putting on my leather gloves.

I shouldn't fear the man I loved. Love and fear don't go well together (obviously), but at the time I did not care to notice these things.

He moved towards me slowly, slowly, until we were chest to chest, and I had to lean my head back slightly. I hated the height advantage he had on me, but I stared defiantly up at him nonetheless, still waiting for his answer.

"What are you doing, Jin? Killing more innocents?" I asked, and my voice sounded like a whimper. Something changed in those dark irises of his, and I knew that I was right. How many lives had he taken this time?

I've always been a strong woman, and I don't let size hinder my confidence. I can flip men five times my size onto their backs with a simple grab or thrust of a wrist. But at the moment, with this man so close and barely touching me, I knew what true fear was. The hard glare in his onyx eyes and the ivory-smooth, pale skin of his face…it all seemed wrong. And, after nearly a month and a half, I still couldn't decipher Jin Kazama.

Jin leaned down towards me and pressed his lips gently to mine in a kiss like a whisper, a frosty breath upon the delicate petals of a rosebud…a shiver slithered up my back.

"You trust me don't you, Jules?" he murmured against my hair, and I found myself nodding.

His powerful hands trailed cool fingers up my back. "You've always been so honest with me. It's one of the things that I love about you."

I began to back away, my gaze never leaving his. The Japanese man stared right back, head cocked slightly, as if pondering if I were a prey worthy of chasing…

"So tell me honestly, Julia: what do you see when you look at me?"

With that, he stalked out of my room without another word.

Closing my eyes, I listened to the door click shut, hating myself even more for not knowing the answer. Why was Jin so afraid to tell me what he'd been up to anyway? And if I wanted to help him, didn't I first have to know what I was fully dealing with here?

After waiting about five minutes, I slid on my faded jean jacket once more, slipped on my frayed moccasins, the ones that made no sound when I walked, and left the hotel. The night was beautiful, like every other night here in Mexico, but its warmth failed to quell the chills that had overtaken my body.

Tonight I would find the answer to Jin's question, and to my own personal questions as well. What did Jin do every night after he left?

I'm no buffalo hunter, but Michelle had taught me a few tracking skills nonetheless, and it took me only five minutes to track Jin down. I hated sneaking around like this. It wasn't right, wasn't honest, and if we truly loved one another then we'd trust each other enough not to have to resort to spying. But I needed answers, and Jin wasn't helping much.

Following him to the heart of a deserted, darkened clearing, I hid behind a nearby bush, hoping the night would aid in my concealment. Remaining motionless and silent, I waited quietly as I watched Jin fall to his knees, clutching at his body.

What I witnessed seemed the stuff only of nightmares. It was all so unreal, like an illusion, and if it were not for those dead men and Jin's changed behavior, I would have believed myself insane and hallucinating. Clapping my hand over my mouth, I forced myself not to cry out in fear and disbelief as I watched the man I loved transform to his demon counterpart. Black wings, billowing feathers and unsheathed claws, shirtless and wailing, the demon stood erect, howling homage to the night. His eyes were crimson, and their scarlet glow contrasted sharply with the darkness of the clearing. The image of my painting came flashing back, the art room, the smell of fresh paint and the horse-haired brush between my fingers…

I held my breath, hoping Jin wouldn't notice me, but then I watched as he froze, head cocked in my direction, nose slightly uplifted to the air.

_Silent as I was, his sense of smell never failed him… _

When Jin suddenly seized me, I finally allowed myself to scream. The sound of my voice frightened me, and the vicious howl of the wind forced the cry to the back of my throat. Screaming was useless here; it would not bring help, or save me from the death that would surely result from this encounter.

Growling, the demon flung me away, and my body crashed to the ground. Struggling to catch my breath, I staggered upright, instinct taking over. Knowing that running would be of no use I had no choice but to fight.

Raising my clenched fists, I waited for Jin to come within range. He swooped down a few seconds later, red eyes smoldering, fanged mouth grinning, and I swiveled, side-stepped, and bent low, first sweeping out with my right leg, catching the demon in the shin. Grunting, I then rose, snapping the same leg out in a fierce roundhouse that sent him staggering forward. However, Jin recovered quickly and lashed out with a jab to my face that made lights dance in my eyes. Shaking away the momentary pain and disorientation, I clenched my teeth and came at him again. Lashing out with a quick flurry of jabs and uppercuts, I forced the demon to defend, sending vicious blow after blow into his uplifted arms…but it turned out for the worst. I hadn't even affected him, and all of that moving, plus the fear and dying adrenaline, was making me exhausted. Usually in a match I can last for a few hours of intense combat, but there had never been fear involved.

And when Jin seized me in one clawed hand, I thought I was done for. But as his crimson eyes met mine, something shifted behind them, and he immediately released me. Puzzled but not waiting for him to make another move, I took my opportunity and fled. Only once did I look behind me, but found that I was alone. Why didn't he follow me and just kill me? It would have been an easy victory.

Well, I had my answer now. And now that I'd obtained it, I wasn't sure if I could help Jin anymore. I was sure as hell still going to try, but I didn't know how useful my attempts would be.

**Jin**

Once I'd realized that it was Julia I fought, I'd immediately retreated. If I killed her, then there was no point in finding a cure, for she was one of the only reasons why I decided to strengthen my search for an antidote, one of the reasons why I allowed my father to murder those countless tribes of Native Americans. Heihachi had shown me Kazuya's plans, his path of destruction, and had told me that my father had insisted that the antidote lay in the earth itself. And of course the best lands, where the earth was still powerful and still retained some of its ancient magic, was where the Indians resided. They were the keepers of the Earth's secrets, the only ones who knew the land best, and my father desperately desired that information.

Kazuya was crazy, but although I knew this, I did nothing to stop him.

After that, my father had invaded the reservations and killed numerous innocent people if they'd refused to cooperate. I knew that the Natives would only refuse, for they loved the land and sensed the demon within Kazuya, but again, I stood aside and watched as Kazuya took life after life after life. I was just a little crazy too, because in my mind, the search for an antidote justified their deaths.

After my father had killed them all, he would ransack their lands, though I don't know what he expected to find. He always found nothing, and would move on to the closest tribe.

This time, Arizona was his next target.

* * *

"_Day and night cannot dwell together"–Duwanish proverb_


	9. The Silent Flute

Hey guys, I'm finally updating. This chapter has many things going on within it, and it's one of the longer chapters. But I hope you enjoy it anyway, and leave a review if you can.

Disclaimer: As usual, the song lyrics aren't mine, nor are the Native American quotes I'll often use in chapters. The bolded words/phrases are the parts that relate to the story.

**_Xiaoin_**: Check out my profile, if you haven't already. I think you'll enjoy it.

* * *

_Spring is calling  
_**Time to leave**  
_The_** winds** _have told me_  
**She's waiting for me**

_Hear the tune  
Of_ **northern winds**

_Twilight sun will soon be gone  
Guide me twilight sun  
I will follow you_ **home**

_Earth is awakening  
The grass is green, the rivers sing_  
**She's calling for me**  
_Shivering leaves_  
**Songs of home**

_For you_ **I will return**

_If you don't return I will leave a message  
For you carved in stone_

"_Twilight Sun" by Leaves' Eyes _

* * *

**The Silent Flute**

After that terrible night, I stopped going to class altogether, just flat out dropped, something I never would have dreamed of doing. I guess when so many things are happening at the same time, things you've never experienced before, like love and confusion and uncertainty, then it forces you to prioritize.

Mr. Vega never called to probe and inquire why his "best" student was absent, which was smart of him. I wasn't in the mood to deal with his petty little worries, for I had some of my own to think about, matters much more important than perfect attendance and perfect grades. Those straight A's now suddenly seemed awfully insignificant. It's funny in a way. All my life my teachers, my mother, my Aunt Cora, even Gabriel, has taught me that an education was the universal equalizer, that no matter who you were, what you looked like, as long as you were smart and had a degree in _something_, then you'd be ok. Now, I wasn't so sure. As of now I'd quit school, quit my goals, so had all that been a waste? All of these voices of the past, the influences, were haunting my mind, trying to persuade and direct my choices, attempting to mold me into this ideal person—when in the end, none of it mattered but my own decisions. It all comes down to what _I_ chose.

And it was my decisions, mine only, that got me into this mess. I was alone now, and alone I would have to figure out an answer to my dilemmas and to Jin's.

I should have given up, gone home, kissed him good-bye…

In the gym I pummeled the flimsy punching bag with a fury I never knew I possessed. Even with my leather gloves, my knuckles ached and my skin was cracked, red and dry from hours of continuous training. I hadn't practiced my martial arts in months, and to finally allow my body to move was like sating my thirst after a long hike in the Arizona plateaus. My body seemed able to breathe again, to function normally, and I loved the bittersweet ache of my muscles and the sweat that glistened on my skin. I longed for Michelle's praises and teachings again, even for my cousin Gabe, who I'd always beaten during sparring. I wondered how my cousin was doing, and realized that this was the first time I'd shown any concern for my relatives since I'd arrived in Mexico nearly a month ago.

I was only in my gray sports bra and shorts, hair tied back messily in a ponytail, and to me, I looked like hell. However, I was all too aware of the eyes on my back, roving up and down over my body, and I felt like wiping those perverted grins from their mouths. Damn men. Even now as "adults" they were still as lecherous as when they'd been curious high school idiots. Smirking, I ignored their eyes and lewd murmurs, and continued to pummel that bag, releasing all of the pent up emotions and energy that had been weighing me down.

A memory danced across my mind then as my fist sank into the bag once more, the hint of salt on my tongue as the sweat slid down the sides of my face.

It was a day before Christie had to leave for Brazil, and we were sitting on the back porch of her house, swinging our legs back and forth as if we were small children again. I remember how the sun had shone in her hair and how, even when she was going to leave me, everything seemed perfect.

_"I'm gonna be on those sandy beaches, Jules, swimming in the sea and checking out the hot surfers! This is gonna be great," she beamed, grinning over at me._

_"Yeah…I know it will be," I'd replied, knowing that her smiles were a façade to mask her sadness. _

_After a moment, all smiles faded, and Christie closed her eyes as she inhaled the sunlight into her skin. "I may be a little promiscuous, Julia, but I hope you understand that I'm not really like that."_

_"Of course not. I know you, Chris."_

_Christie looked away, sighing, folding her hands together. "It's just that—oh, I don't know. I just feel lonely sometimes…but one day I'm gonna find him, Jules, you watch. Someday I'm gonna find that man of my dreams."_

_She turns to me with her quirky little smile and I couldn't help but laugh._

_"Well when you do, I wanna meet him, ok?" I replied, leaning my head on her shoulder._

_After awhile, I asked, "What makes up your dream guy, Chris? Nice abs? A cute smile?" _

_"Quite the contrary," Christie replied solemnly, and the playful banter disappeared from my voice. She got this faraway look in her eyes, as if I was no longer present._

_"He's gotta love me for who I am. He has to be kind, relatively good looking, you know, the usual things, but he's also gotta be honest. Sure, mysterious guys are attractive and have that 'dark beauty' goin' for them, but in the end, I want someone who won't be afraid to tell me who he is, and what he wants. I want that trust, you know? I want him to smile and laugh and I don't want him to take life too seriously. I don't want him to have huge secrets either, because, one way or another, those secrets do eventually return and bite you in the back. Get what I mean?"_

_"Perfectly."_

_Christie hesitated, then smiled. "Your turn. Who's your dream man, Jules?"_

_Sighing, I reply, "Same as you, Chris." And then Christie smiled at me, hugging me tight…_

I had been too embarrassed to tell her the truth. It was our last moment together and I'd told her a lie. Because the truth was, I had no idea what I wanted in a man. She seemed to know everything already, figured everything out, and here I was lost in no man's land with my finger up in the air, unsure of which way the winds blew. I didn't know anything about that yet.

Even now as an adult I still felt unbelievably ignorant and stupid.

The punching bag gradually swung to a stop, and I wiped a gloved hand across my brow. Gulping my water, I recalled my best friend's face, her smile, and I could still remember her voice. I longed for Christie, for her to be here with me so I'd have a shoulder to cry on for once, so she could listen to me and tell me that she had all the answers. Christie would help me cure Jin, she'd take me home afterwards, bring a smile to my mother's face, and we'd all go down to Brazil together, dip our toes in the ocean and laugh away the regrets and mistakes with bird-bath sized margaritas in our hands.

If only it were all that simple.

Ignoring the eyes behind me, I exited the gym and into the locker room, where I could think more about my friend's words.

**Michelle**

Phoenix: A single tribe of Apache massacred in a period of a day and night, women, men, and children alike. The neighboring Hopi tribe: only a trail of blood and bodies remains as evidence of their existence. And even more tribes—the Sioux Nation in Canada, the Nez Perce in New Mexico, half the Cherokee Nation in Oklahoma—all dead. All of the tribes had been decimated without a trace of the killer, and American authorities were baffled. Idiot white government, like they could do anything anyway. Everyone was dead, but nothing had been taken. None of the jewelry, the valuable heirlooms, the money was all accounted for, but everything had been sifted and ransacked through, as if the culprit had been searching for something. The land had been torn open, ravaged, deep gorges in place of lush valleys, seeking, seeking something…

I knew that only the Mishimas were capable of such a horrendous deed—so when Kazuya Mishima appeared on my front doorstep sunset the next day, I wasn't too surprised. But what did surprise me was that this time he wasn't here for the medallion. Rather, he was here for my land. Cruel déjà vu, isn't it?

My past had returned to claim me as well as my only daughter. Despair clutched at my heart, and I felt the hope slowly begin to fade from within my spirit…staring at the man before me, I knew that my time had come, regardless of how hard I would resist.

"Ah, Michelle. We meet again. But I've no time or desire for useless greetings. As you and I both know, your lands are known for their rich minerals and prowess with shamanism. Trust me: if you cooperate, your people will remain safe, and I'll be on my way," Kazuya stated.

"I trust you as a bird trusts a serpent. If it's an antidote you seek, it's not here," I growled, resisting the urge to strike him. However, I had to attempt to resolve matters peacefully; my people's lives were at stake after all.

Kazuya glared down at me, eyes slightly wide with astonishment as he realized that I already knew his intentions of being here. But as he regained his composure, the Asian man snarled, "I don't think you have a choice, Michelle."

I'm Native American, and you should know by now the fierce relationship we have with the earth. So when this arrogant Mishima son of a bitch suddenly shows up and starts demanding for my land, naturally, I retaliated.

But an ordinary woman, no matter how great her martial arts or her will, stands no chance against a full-fledged demon driven by rage and hate. I knew this, knew that I'd never see Julia again, my daughter, my light, my life…yet I raised my fists and defiantly looked Death in the eye.

I understood my dream now. The silent flute.

Pivoting, I landed the first blow.

**Julia**

The air smelled of rain, yet the clouds remained dry. They were all black, like smoke in the heavens, and a thick fog crept in like a silent killer, entwining among the trees and the blossoms like a great snake. It was extremely humid, sticky, and it stuck to me like freshly spilled blood. Something was wrong.

And suddenly all was quiet. The fog ceased, the humidity lessened slightly as a gentle, almost merciful breeze whispered in from the north.

_Run, run, run,_ it seemed to murmur…

I didn't know what it was, intuition, a sixth sense, a vision, or just some odd, unexplainable spiritual connection. All I knew was that once the thunderstorm hit, the lightning blinding my vision momentarily and the rain suddenly erupting out of nowhere, I knew that something was wrong back at home.

Fear gripped my heart, not from the raging thunderstorm that struck the trees into splinters, nor from the rain that flooded the earth and drowned the birds. Something terrible was happening, but I didn't have the slightest idea what it could be. I could do nothing but stand there in the relentless downpour, my clothes and hair drenched and plastered to my skin, vision blurred and filled with gray spots, and the freezing cold invading my body from all sides.

**Michelle**

I wiped a thin line of blood from my chin and quickly straightened, not allowing Kazuya the time to prepare for another blow.

The demon man laughed slightly, and his uppercut sent me flying into the kitchen counter. I doubled over, clutching myself as I felt an electric jolt shoot through my body, and it was as if my nerves were on fire.

"Why must you make it difficult for me, Michelle?" he sneered, advancing quickly.

Recovering, but only just, I rushed him again, my elbow aimed, but Kazuya was much too fast and side-stepped at the last moment, using my own momentum to send me careening into the wall. Collapsing to the ground, I groaned, unable to pick myself up. I was losing focus too easily, my movements reckless, juvenile, yet as my mind cried for me to fight harder, my worn, beaten body demanded surrender.

"I get the mother," he snarled as he seized my hair, forcing my head up from the ground, "and my son gets the daughter."

"_Damn you_," I snarled, leaping up, my energy suddenly renewed at the mention of Julia. But Kazuya merely struck me in the head again and again, the back, the belly, everywhere, until I was on the brink of the sweet, merciful darkness.

But suddenly he was off of me and seemed to be engaged elsewhere. Finding the strength to lift my head up slightly, I realized that Gabriel had intervened. The muscular Native American man was miniscule compared to Kazuya, and I wept silently as I watched him destroy my nephew.

"Gabriel! Run! Run, Gabriel! Leave me!" I cried, but he simply ignored my pleads, and continued to advance on the demon man, fear in his eyes yet determination and worry for me as well. Foolish, stupid, idiotic, _brave_ Gabriel! How did he expect to defeat Kazuya if he couldn't even beat Julia in a simple sparring match?

It was over in a matter of a few seconds. He hadn't even had time to scream. Gabriel lay in a heap on the floor, his blood seeping slowly from his body, staining his white T-shirt a dark crimson. I began to cry harder now, harder because I'd just witnessed the brutal murder of my sister's boy, harder because Gabriel had had nothing to do with this, an innocent life taken. The tears flowed faster for I hadn't fought nearly as hard as I should have, and because I knew that I would die here on the floor and never see my daughter's face again. I would never get to hear Julia's voice or her laughter, feel her hand in mine or see her brilliant smile. I would never again be able to guide her through life, nor ever see her college graduation or her husband, not her wedding or the little grandchildren that could have been mine…

"I'm sorry, Michelle. But it's your fault. It didn't have to be this way," he murmured into my ear, his hands gripping my hair until my scalp screamed in agony. "I _need_ an antidote, and your home may hold the key. I suffer, don't you understand!"

Biting back the pain, I emitted a derisive laugh, then spat in his face, the mixture of saliva and blood sliding down his skin. I would not go into the next world silent and weak with this filthy creature smothering my spirit. "You do not know what suffering is, you worthless bastard. I am not a coward like you, Kazuya Mishima. I did not sell myself to the darkness like some desperate whore, nor did I ever betray my own lover and child for power. You shall rot in hell; the spirits show no mercy to murderers and traitors!"

He struck me again, but I blocked him this time, and his red eyes stared daggers into mine.

"Spirits or no spirits, Michelle, I was damned the moment I let the Devil enter me forty years ago; I am already in hell. So let's see if your beloved spirits will save you now, bitch," he growled.

And before his fist made contact, I saw Julia's smile. I heard her voice for the first time since the vision of the silent flute. She spoke softly, and her laughter echoed in my ears as if she was right there beside me, murmuring into my ear…

_"It's gonna be okay, Ama…Ama…I love you…"_

And then there was just the darkness devouring me up, pulling me forth into her ebony arms. My spirit broke free from my body, flying for the heavens to be in the embraces of my ancestors at last…and yet, as I glimpsed just the faint slivers of light, I found that I could not get through.

There was a barrier; I could not see my ancestors. Trapped in this world, I knew that the next life had denied me entrance, and that I would find no peace, for my unnatural, brutal death hindered that ability. Doomed to an existence as a lost, restless ghost that did not belong to this life, I plummeted back down to earth, watching as Kazuya abandoned my body. I wept, if a ghost could possess the capability to weep, and knew that in order for my spirit to find peace, my Julia would have to suffer some more yet.

Although dead, I knew all of this.

Drifting down to my body, with its slack mouth and opaque eyes staring straight ahead, I faded into the shadows, awaiting my daughter's return.

**Jin**

"Your father killed Michelle."

The Arizona heat stifled my breath and my speech, and for a moment all I could do was stand there, staring in disbelief as my grandfather revealed the outcome of last night's killing.

"You must be mistaken," I debated, my heartbeat increasing wildly.

"I'm sorry, Jin. And he found no antidote."

"He killed her for no reason!" I exploded, knowing that if Julia found out, it would be the end of our relationship. It was incredibly selfish of me, but I couldn't let that happen no matter what.

"What are you worrying about? You still have her daughter," Heihachi retorted.

"Not necessarily," I snarled, running my hand through my hair in frustration and desperation. What was I to do now?

How could I have let this happen? Michelle was dead, slain by my own father, and all of Julia's doubts about the Mishimas would be true. She would leave me alone in the darkness again, with fear instead of love in her eyes, and with wounds that would never fully heal. Damn you, Kazuya!

"Why didn't you tell me he was going to Arizona!" I screamed to Heihachi, and I felt the demon stirring within my blood.

Heihachi merely smiled. "You never bothered to ask."

"You sick bastard! You knew this was going to happen, didn't you? Didn't you!"

My grandfather replied with silence, and I knew what a fool I'd been to trust Heihachi and to allow my father to murder innocents—especially Michelle Chang, the one person Julia loved and respected more than me.

This was my fault, mine alone, and killing Heihachi wouldn't bring back Julia's mother, nor would it make me feel any better. So instead, I allowed the demon to take over, dark wings taking form, and I abandoned my grandfather in the scarlet canyons.

Soaring through the wispy clouds, I knew that I would never tell Julia what my father had done. I tried to convince myself that perhaps, if I _were_ to tell her, she and I could still be together. It was my father, not I that had taken her mother's life…

But would that really make a difference?

Despair and shame squeezed at my heart. How dare I even _consider_ lying to Julia, who has only been honest with me all this time. Besides, I underestimate her intelligence and intuition. One way or another, Julia would figure it all out. She'd know sooner or later that I'd been involved as well, that I'd stood idly by, watching as Kazuya killed countless people. I was just as much of a murderer as my father was.

However, I knew that I would keep my silence for as long as necessary.

**Julia**

_The white crane nudged at the gray coyote, using her beak to gently caress his pelt. But instead of returning the tenderness, the predator reared up, clamping powerful jaws over one of the bird's pale wings. She screamed, the white crane, yet no sound came forth. She struggled with the coyote, desperately writhing in his fatal grip, flapping the other wing uselessly, and she watched as her snow-white feathers were quickly stained an ugly crimson…_

_Her blood flowed over both of them, and the silence endured…_

In the movies, when the main character has a nightmare, they wake up bolt upright with their back ramrod straight, and sometimes they do this with a dramatic gasp or scream. But in reality, with true nightmares, you lay quietly in bed with the covers drawn up to your chin, your heartbeat crazy with fear. With senses on full alert, fear courses through you as you stare out, eyes wide open, into the darkness. Every shadow, every slight movement, sets your nerves on fire. Your fear is far too great for you to move or gasp dramatically, because the remnants of the terrible dream still linger yet in your mind. You can't seem to grasp the exact images every time, but it's not the pictures that matter; it is the horrible feelings it leaves in its wake that never fails to instill fright in your heart.

That's how it is when I have this nightmare—or perhaps, dare I say, vision. Finally, I have grasped a slight understanding of this dream, which has haunted me for two days after that eerie thunderstorm. The coyote may possibly represent the Mishimas…yet who is the crane? Why would mind conjure up such a violent nightmare?

After the fear abated, I reluctantly rolled out of bed, hair disheveled and eyes swollen with the remnants of sleep, and trudged for the bathroom. After discarding my clothing, I quickly stepped into the shower and tilted my head back lazily, allowing the hot water to wash away last night's fears. The steam filled the bathroom, covering the mirror in a distorted, milky film, and the heat was nearly suffocating, forming beads of sweat on my skin. Yet I refused to leave the shower. I knew that I should stop the water, that I should instead call home and check on the family…yet a side of me also feared what I might hear, that perhaps it was worse than what I'd thought it to be. And believe me, after meeting Jin and going through his little mood swings, more bad news was something I just couldn't handle right now. I'd deal with it later.

However, I was forced from my watery sanctuary when there came a persistent, loud knocking at the hotel room door. Reluctantly turning the water off and sheathing myself in a bathrobe, I hurried to the entrance. Jin Kazama stood in the doorway, spiky hair sticking out in all directions, clothes in disarray, but he still managed to look attractive at the same time.

"Julia," he rasped, and pushed his way in. He had a way of doing that, and all I could do was shut the door quietly behind him.

The silence was heavy, deafening, and for a moment all the two of us could do was stand there across from one another, unspoken questions lingering in the air. He'd been gone for five more days now and still owed me an explanation.

Then, Jin slowly moved towards me, and before I could stop him his mouth had descended on mine. I found myself responding hungrily, realizing that, despite my anger and confusion, despite the unease and the doubt, I still wanted him in my life. My arms came around to clutch him closer, my body instinctively molding itself against the hard contours of his body. Jin's mouth was bolder this time, and moved to my neck, my collarbone, and, parting my robe, I felt his coarse lips press against the area between my breasts.

"No, Jin," I gasped, my back suddenly arching as he moved the robe farther away…

"You want me Julia, I can feel it. Just surrender, this once. Let me give you the joy I've denied you all these weeks."

The man sure knew how to convince, and I felt the desire radiate off him in waves. He was so tempting, his mouth and hands setting my skin ablaze with lust, the bed only a few feet away…But although my body clearly yearned for his touch and his kisses, my mind had other plans. It resisted him fiercely, so ardently that it was almost frightening, my conscience screaming for me to push Jin away.

And all my life, other than when I was fighting skin to skin, I've always listened to my mind first.

"No!" I cried, wrenching myself away as I pulled my robe tightly about myself. The remnants of his kisses left a burning trail on my skin, and I tried hard to ignore the desire in the pit of my stomach.

"Goddammit, Julia! We both want this! Why do you continue to deny me?" he asked, eyes afire with frustration yet sorrowful at the same time.

I turned to him in a rage. "Because with it comes trust, Jin, and security. And over the past days, I don't know if I have either from you."

"But I love you, Julia, and you me. That is enough; love is enough!"

"_Love_? What exactly _is_ love to you? It smells more like_ lust _to me."

My words seemed to echo in the air, settling in between us like a barrier. Jin was silent.

Breathing deeply, I remembered Christie's last words the day she left Arizona, about how she didn't like her men secretive and mysterious…

"Because I think, for the _first time_, that I may know an inkling of what love is. It is trust, honesty, and joy. It is knowing that you're safe, knowing you're complete, and knowing that there lies no secrets and deception in between."

Jin bowed his head, refusing to make eye contact. This time, it was I who approached him.

"Can you give me all of that, Jin? For it is _you_, not I, that has been denying things. You're hiding something from me," I stated, for I knew that it was indeed true. Jin was keeping something from my knowledge, something important that he feared would end our relationship. How incredibly selfish of him. I continued to learn things about him everyday, many of which I wished I hadn't found out about.

The problem now was finding out his secret.

Glaring at him, I murmured, "It doesn't matter; one way or another I'll find out."

He started for the door.

"If you truly loved me, Jin, you would not keep such secrets from me."

* * *

After that ordeal, I hurriedly dressed and headed for downtown where I could find a phone (the phone lines had mysteriously been out of order at the hotel the night Jin returned). Removing my phone card from my back pocket, I quickly punched in my home phone number, wondering how much this long distance call was going to cost. But money wasn't the primary issue at the moment. 

The phone rang three times before somebody answered, and when I heard the quavering voice of Aunt Cora on the other end, I knew something was horribly wrong.

"Aunt Cora? Hi, this is Julia. I was just calling to see if everything's ok up there," I said softly, cradling the phone against my shoulder and ear as I hurriedly jammed the phone card back into my jeans pocket.

In response, Cora burst into tears. Her sobs seemed to pierce straight into me, her raw sorrow twisting my heart between its fingers and squeezing painfully hard. Swallowing my fear, I plowed on.

"Aunt Cora, please, what's the matter?" I asked, trying and nearly failing to maintain my composure.

The sobs turned to hiccups. "Oh Julia, I was hoping we'd h-have this c-conversation later…"

"What? Tell me what's going on right now, Aunt Cora," I demanded.

"It's Gabriel, Julia. Gabriel…my son is dead!" she suddenly wailed, and I had to put up with her heartbreaking sobs once more.

My skin grew cold, and suddenly my heart squeezed tightly in my chest. The air suddenly seemed thinner, the oxygen harder to inhale…

Gabriel…gone? It just didn't seem possible. Gabriel, my tall, handsome cousin, a man so filled with life and laughter, couldn't possibly be dead. There had to be some misunderstanding.

"What?" I managed to gasp, my hands trembling.

It took even longer this time for Aunt Cora to respond. When she finally did, she'd managed to regain some of her composure, but her voice was a hoarse whisper. "Listen to me, Julia: that's not all. Your mother, M-Michelle…"

The silence hung heavy between us, and I could hear my aunt's shaky breathing on the other line, as if a cold chill had somehow swept its way between us, embracing us close to her icy breast…I hated the sensation, but forced myself to remain calm.

Waiting patiently, I wondered if I even wanted to hear this. _Ama's all right, Ama's all right, of course she's ok, she's so strong, she has to be…_

And yet I knew that my heart lied. It had been doing that a lot lately.

"Aunt Cora?" I prodded, my voice barely audible.

"Julia—Julia, your mother is dead."

There was the initial shocked silence…and then without warning the emotions came plunging in out of nowhere.

Words cannot even begin to describe the torrent of feelings that invaded my body, my heart, my spirit, my mind. Suddenly the world became a blur, as if I was trying to see clearly with tears in my eyes, and my head spun, the colors mixing violently into one unidentifiable shade, the light diminishing, the hope and life dying within me. I knew my aunt spoke the truth.

Michelle was dead. Cora might as well have told me I was dead as well. And I searched, oh yes, I searched, I prodded, I sought out my mother's spirit, her life force—and it simply wasn't there. In return, I felt only hollowness, a dark space, and something else too…something like sadness. Anger. Hopelessness. Desperation. It was a cold, empty loneliness that seemed to wail my name, calling for me, reaching into my spirit and wrapping its talons about me. I knew my mother was dead, and yet I fought the talons, weeping, denying Aunt Cora's words, pushing away the dread and the emptiness.

And to think that the last time we'd spoken was during an argument, a conversation that seemed so petty now; to think that the last words I'd uttered to my mother were ones of arrogance, anger, and foolishness. With this realization, the silent tears finally decided to make an appearance.

"Ajijawk, I'm so sorry. Both Gabriel and Michelle in one day," she murmured.

Aunt Cora began to speak of the good times, you know, the usual bullshit that was supposed to make people feel better, but all I knew was that Mom was gone, as was Gabriel. _Your mother is dead…_

I halted Cora's nonsense with a single word: "How."

It was more of a demand than a question, and I felt the anger boil up within me, temporarily suppressing the initial grief. My knuckles turned white as they clutched the phone; I knew Gabriel and Michelle had been murdered.

The scar on my hand burned as if on fire, and my fist clenched in an attempt to quell the pain.

Silence, once again, but eventually my mother's sister replied, "Kazuya, Kazuya Mishima. But your mother and cousin weren't the only ones he killed, Julia. Several tribes were massacred…innocent people…"

Of course, the Mishimas, the one family that has been my enemy since my mother's arrival into their tournaments. How could I have thought it could have been anyone else? I didn't have to ask when these incidents occurred. I had only but to confront Jin about those several weeks when he'd been absent.

But the possibility of Jin Kazama, the man I thought I loved, being involved in my mom's murder, made me sick to my stomach. I did not even want to begin to think about it. Closing my eyes, I could feel the denial again, rising up like a shield around me.

No, no way. Jin has his flaws, but he wouldn't do this to me, to anyone! Jin's not a murderer, a mindless, heartless killer…

But my mind recalled Mateo Rodriquez and Eduardo Sanchez, the deceased Mexican men I'd seen on TV, and I knew that I uttered lies. With the Gene playing a part, anything was possible with Jin.

Finding my voice, I said, "I'm coming home."

Isn't it funny how you wait until the situation is dire in order to do what is right? I should have left weeks and weeks ago. I should have left the moment I knew he was Jin Kazama in that abandoned Mayan temple. Maybe then I could have prevented all of this bloodshed and grief that had destroyed my world. Maybe I could have kept the coyote at bay. My one careless, selfish moment resulted in the death of the person closest to my heart, and naturally, though it was clearly not my fault, I took the blame, I felt the guilt. I felt like weeping and destroying everything in sight at the same time. The self-loathing was overpowering, even stronger now. It felt like a bird was struggling to break free from its steel prison, flying violently inside my throat, and I had to breathe deeply several times to regain control.

And poor, poor Aunt Cora. She and her innocent son had been unwillingly dragged into this, and the guilt increased tenfold within my chest. It was a burden I'd carry for a long time, a wound that would take me years to fully heal.

"Good, Julia, good. The tribe needs you now more than ever. You must be here to set your mother's spirit free," she cried.

"Bye," I whispered curtly, then hung up the phone.

Aunt Cora should know that that wasn't at all possible, my liberating my mother's soul from this earth. She'd died a brutal death, and only with justice—and perhaps vengeance—would her spirit rest. It is like that in every death. The soul, though abandoning the body, its temporary host, needs peace. It needs closure and rest in order to move on the next life. Many people do not believe in the soul's travel to different worlds, most of who are ignorant whites who believe only in the tangible, and I pity them greatly. They narrow their minds to this world and to this existence, and have a history of suppressing others who disagree.

But anyway, history never was my forte. I can go on and on about how the Caucasians have mistreated my people, _minorities_ in general…but my point is that there _are_ other worlds, a form of Heaven and Hell _does_ exist. But my mother is trapped. Her spirit does not know the path to the next life.

I felt her now, calling to me, beckoning me home, begging to be released from her restless existence. And I would come too, but there was still one more thing I had to do before my departure.

I knew who the crane was now. It had been hidden within me since my birth, hidden within my name…

Hugging my jean jacket closer to my body, I headed back to the hotel where I knew Jin would eventually come. The tears and the mourning would come later, but now it was time for me to be at my strongest. I was alone again, for sure this time, but that's all right.

After all, like my mother told me once, sometimes we grow stronger when we're by ourselves.


	10. Fortress of Ice

**Hey guys, updating from Mexico. I really wanna come home now, but I guess it ain´t that bad. Here´s 10.**

_**Disclaimer**: As usual, the quotes/proverbs/song lyrics/Tekken characters don't belong to me. _

* * *

**Fortress of Ice**

_Hold on to what is good,  
Even if it's a handful of earth.  
Hold on to what you believe,  
Even if it's a tree that stands by itself.  
Hold on to what you must do,  
Even if it's a long way from here.  
Hold on to your life,  
Even if it's easier to let go.  
Hold on to my hand,  
Even if someday I'll be gone away from you. _

– Pueblo Indian Prayer

* * *

The failures and losses were resurrected as the hot tears burned their way down the sides of my face. It seemed that I had an endless supply of them these days. 

Rising from my bed, I swiped away at the tears on my skin and tried unsuccessfully to push Michelle from my mind. Smoothing my finger over the silver ring on my hand, the memories rushed forth anyway, reminding me of that life I had lost, the life I'd once had at my mother's side. Oh spirits, what I would do for just one more moment with her, one more moment of utter peace and calm. Without her I did not know which way to go anymore, for I desperately needed Michelle's guidance no matter how stupid and self-righteous I'd been earlier. But, in a way, ironically, the enormous sense of loss within my heart helped me to think clearer than I'd been able to a month ago. I knew my mistakes, would learn from them, and I knew, at least, what to do next. It's funny how you don't begin to appreciate things until they're gone; tragedy often aids us in seeking the most important aspects in life.

Only through suffering, some say, may a person truly become good. And indeed I have suffered, and through it I would attempt to find strength…but I was unsure if it would help me become a good person. That's the ultimate challenge, for it is indeed easier for all of us to become hateful, cold, bitter individuals. It's much, much more difficult for us to learn to be good-hearted and kind, forgiving and understanding. Michelle's always taught me to be the latter, but it's easier said than done.

There has been change no doubt, and not for good either. I became the opposite of my former self, for it seemed that the old Julia had disappeared. I used to be a shy girl, quiet, studious, inexperienced, courteous…That uncanny ability to read people was still with me, but that open, trusting woman had vanished. I've always been weak that way, too trusting for my own damn good, and look where that's taken me. Perhaps it's just because I love life; perhaps it was because I wanted desperately to believe that everything on this earth was good and pure. Well…I learned the truth the hard way didn't I. My trusting nature led me to Jin Kazama after all, and from there began a thunderstorm of fear and deception. The worst part was that I could have, and did not, prevent the lightning from striking. I had simply stood there in the rain, waiting for something good to happen amidst the chaos.

But another part of me, the part that still clung tightly to hope, suggested that maybe all of this had been inevitable, that perhaps it had all occurred for a reason. Maybe, whether I'd met Jin or not, Kazuya would still have come to take Michelle's life. It's one mystery that I would never be able to solve.

However, I do know that if I'd at least listened to my mother, I could have seen her for one last time. Instead of wandering aimlessly in this dreamland I called love, I could have at least been by her side when Kazuya had invaded our home…

I had rescued her once. Why hadn't I been able to a second time?

It was like a fortress of ice sealing up my heart, my wounds, temporarily shielding me from harm and from any foreign emotions that might hinder my new self. Weakness (also known as trust and love) was not allowed for they would only slow me down. I didn't trust anymore, Jin Kazama saw to that; I did not see things the same way. I used to think that life was perfect, that the sun always smiled, that the winds whispered only with laughter.

I used to think that Mom would always be with me…

But now Ajijawk must open her eyes and learn how to use her wings, for all that she has seen has been but a mirage.

I was lost, for my life had strayed off the path—but I had an idea of what steps I had to take in order to reclaim it.

* * *

The day waned, white light giving way to scarlet splashes of sunset, like a fresh canvas smeared with blood. While the evanescing sun surrendered her skies to her moon counterpart, the darkness mercilessly began to devour the light. It showed me the end of my life here in Mexico, and I waited, brown backpack filled to the brim with my clothes and a few food items. 

I'd returned my textbooks to Mr. Vega a few days ago, claiming that I could not finish his class due to family issues. It was only half the truth, and although Vega was clearly disappointed, he let me go and did not ask questions. I guess I'd changed so much over the past weeks that he didn't bother getting to know me anymore. He'd always be one of the best teachers I'd ever had, but his classes would have to wait. As soon as I was sure my life was stable, then perhaps I'd pick up archeology once again.

James had seen me, but we both hadn't bothered to greet one another. It would have just been useless and awkward, and it saved us both time and prevented uncomfortable feelings. He'd always be a good friend, but losing James wasn't a big deal.

The hotel room was cold as I waited for him, and the only sound I could hear was the rhythmic pounding of my heart. My backpack was slung snugly about my shoulders, a pair of tattered sneakers adorned my feet, and clutched tightly in one fist was my little buffalo knife I'd made as an innocent fourteen-year-old in Arizona. Back then it had bee jnust an object to admire, a little toy to present to my mother to earn praise. But now, as I glanced down at the silver blade gleaming unsheathed from its leather scabbard, it had become a deadly weapon. I realized that I would use it if I needed to, especially if Jin got out of control. I was not a murderer, but I knew how to inflict pain very well when protection was needed. Yes, I've got my fists and my legs, but Jin Kazama wasn't exactly your average opponent. This time there were no referees to stop you when things got out of hand.

When midnight arrived and Jin still wasn't here, I knew he had no intention of returning to the hotel room. I could have left without telling him why I was leaving, but I chose to seek him out anyway. He had to know that what he'd done was wrong, and that the feelings I used to possess for him were fading quickly as well. After all, if I couldn't trust him and if he continued to harbor secrets, then Jin Kazama was not worthy of my heart.

I didn't know when the shift in emotions occurred—it just _happened_. There would always be a place in me for Jin; I would always care about that man, and I still do today. But when it came to matters of love, I found only emptiness.

Sheathing my knife, I tucked it away carefully into my pocket and left the building for the last time. Relieved to be finally rid of that cold, sterile hotel room, I inhaled deeply, relishing Mexico's spicy scent. Even though it was midnight, this part of Mexico refused to sleep. The air still carried the rich smell of freshly steamed tamales and fresh tortillas, and a little hint of sewage as well, an odor I had surprisingly gotten used to. The sound of children's laughter still lingered on the breeze, and the silver stars seemed to smile down upon the earth. Had I not been in such an urgent situation, I would have better enjoyed my last night in Mexico.

After temporarily admiring the darkness, I quickly but silently made my way to the ruins. Laughter gave way to utter stillness, and the scent of tamales was replaced by the musty odor of decaying leaves. The air was moist, placid, and even through the night I could see the outline of the looming Mayan temple. The place was abandoned as before, lonely, but the atmosphere, the aura surrounding the temple, was wild, electric, and filled with life, as if the great Mayan gods had refused to abandon their ancient shrines. It seemed to tempt me to enter, its hieroglyphs seemed to dance and sneer at my hesitation; in response, my heart resisted, my instinct insisting that I turn around and leave. However, I approached the temple anyway, remembering the first time I'd encountered Jin. My mind recalled his soothing voice and those sad, enigmatic eyes…

I had just reached the temple entrance when I heard a deep voice from above me.

"I knew you'd come."

Jin sat like a stone gargoyle atop the temple, and I gave a little cry of surprise; how could I have failed to notice him sitting there?

What was even more frightening was that, although his eyes did not yet glow crimson, he had revealed his wings. He was still human, but only just, and my hand clutched at my pants pocket where I knew the buffalo knife lay waiting.

Spirits be with me…give me strength…

Jin's eyes settled upon me as he spread his dark wings, descending gracefully onto the ground a moment later.

"Do I frighten you, Julia, in this state?" he asked.

I replied by backing away from him.

The demon man looked away briefly, and I thought I noticed tears in his eyes. When he met my gaze again, those eyes were blood red.

"Don't run. I want you to stay with me." His voice had become a low growl, and an image of the coyote flashed in my mind's eye, the long pink tongue lapping up the cave water, sharp canines drawing blood as they pierced my flesh…

My breath caught in my throat. "N-no."

His eyes returned to their normal hue, but he did not bother to retract his wings.

"I knew you'd leave sooner or later, Julia. But please, let us figure something out. I'm looking for a cure, and it'll all be over soon."

I shook my head, recoiling from him even more. "I'm sorry. I cannot love a murderer and a liar."

Jin halted. "Your mother's death is not my fault."

"Oh it is. You see, Jin, even now you refuse to take responsibility. You knew what Kazuya was doing the whole time, yet you turned your back and allowed it all to happen. Only when he'd killed Michelle did you feel any remorse. You sicken me," I snarled, and I could feel the leather sheath of the knife within my hands.

The Japanese man was silent, and for a moment all he could do was stare at me coldly, unsure of how to respond; he knew that I spoke the truth.

"Please, Julia. I'm sorry," he finally murmured, but I shook my head once again.

"It's too late now. My mother and cousin are already dead. I'm leaving."

"No, you can't. I need you, Jules. I don't want to be alone anymore."

The silver blade smiled up at me. "We had our good moments…but I can't stay with you anymore. Besides, loneliness isn't so bad, Jin."

A slight breeze stirred from the north, and it seemed to pull me away from the temple, warning me to hustle.

"Was it ever real? Our love?" Jin whispered, his eyes suddenly pained and sorrowful, and I got a brief glimpse of that man I'd fallen for.

I allowed myself one last smile in his presence. "Yes, I believe it was at one time. But you took from me my heart, my goodness, and my mother, the only true family I had left…I don't love you any longer, Jin."

He stared at me, dark eyes empty and unreadable.

"Then why do you merely stand there, Julia? Why do you not avenge the lost loved ones I took from you?" he whispered, "You are very capable of taking my life; you're a fighter after all."

Jin held out his hands as if in surrender, but I would not be tempted.

"Because," I replied softly, "I'm not like you, Jin Kazama. I'm not a killer."

"Julia—"

"Good-bye."

I turned abruptly to go, but as expected, I felt Jin seize my shoulder.

"No!" he cried, but I was ready this time.

Pivoting in his grip, I took hold of both his arms, locking his elbows with a sharp jerk, then, grunting, I threw my weight backward, flipping Jin over my head. He landed hard, ebony wings flailing in an attempt to regain balance. Not waiting for him to recover, I took my buffalo dagger in hand and plunged the blade into one of Jin's wings. The demon man cried out in pain, and I quickly removed the knife and administered the same wound to the other wing. Blood stained the earth scarlet and Jin's scream reverberated through the night. I didn't bother to wipe the blood off the blade, quickly stuffing the knife back into its scabbard and then into my pocket.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, "but I can't have you following me."

A single tear escaped Jin's eyes as he gazed up at me, red irises eerie yet pitiful at the same time. He was helpless now, limited to the ground, his wings useless, and he reached out for me as I turned away. Without a backward glance, I began to run in the opposite direction, abandoning Jin and all that we used to share. I knew he would regain his strength eventually, but hopefully those wounds I'd given him would take awhile to heal.

Out of breath and frightened, I managed to hail a cab soon after, and climbed in, the smooth leather seats a frosty breath on my legs. After telling the driver my destination, the airport, I bowed my head, hugging myself, and allowed the tears to take over. It did not last long, however, for just as they began, that fortress of ice hardened even more, forcing the sobs back down my throat.

_There is no time to mourn. Just keep moving, keep moving…_

It was the last time I would weep for a long, long time.

* * *

The flight from Mexico to Phoenix wouldn't be a long one, supposedly two hours at the most. It had been difficult getting past the metal detector—my little buffalo knife ruined everything for me. When security officers had stopped to ask me questions, their eyes narrowed, hands poised over their guns, I'd seriously considered just kicking their asses and making a run for it. However, I just pulled the old "I'm Native American and this is my culture" crap on them; the last thing I wanted was attention, so I remained calm and, to my relief, security eventually let me pass. 

I'd gotten several strange looks from the other passengers; I must've looked like hell. Adjusting the glasses on my nose, I breathed deeply and tried to blend in, sitting down casually in my seat. Leaning my head against the window, I waited silently for the plane to take flight. The glass pane was cold against my skin, and I stared absentmindedly at my reflection. I'd lost some weight for my face was smaller, the cheekbones more prominent, my lips were pale, and the bangs framing my face hung down limp and disheveled. My glasses, whose thick lenses were grimy and smeared with sweat, gave me an incredibly nerdy look, and I sighed, wishing I'd taken the time to put contacts in. The messy braided hair didn't add well to the picture either, and I forced my gaze away from the window.

What the hell had Jin seen in me anyway? Or even James?

Impatience settled in as I realized it was taking longer than usual for the plane to take off. My heart pounded wildly within my chest; was Jin going to follow me? What if he was here right now? Why wasn't the plane moving!

"Perdon Señorita, habla español?"

I glanced up and noticed a pretty flight attendant leaning over me. The nametag on her left breast pocket read 'Marta', and I nodded, flashing her an artificial smile; she'd asked me if I could speak Spanish.

She smiled back nervously, then gestured at my hands and asked if I was all right.

"Sí, sí, estoy bien," I replied as politely as I could, trying to make her leave.

However, as I glanced down at my hands, I finally understood why everyone had been staring. Blood, which was just beginning to turn dark, stained my palms and fingers a deep crimson—it was Jin's. My eyes widened in horror, but I concealed my emotions and asked the flight attendant for water, napkins, and antiseptic wipes.

"Well would you look at that! I must have cut myself," I said cheerfully in Spanish, as if it was the norm for people to walk around with their hands soaked in blood. Marta nodded as if she understood completely, but the look she gave me contradicted her smile. She walked away a little too swiftly to retrieve the things I'd asked for, and I smiled nervously in response to several of the passengers' stares.

Once Marta returned, I began to clean the blood off, scrubbing at my skin until it was raw and stinging. I didn't want any part of Jin with me, and the pale napkins quickly turned red and pink with his blood. Why could I have been so careless? Now everyone was suspicious.

The rest of the ride was quiet, relatively calm (it was nearly two in the morning after all) and an hour later I arrived in Arizona. I hadn't eaten anything since the afternoon, and headed straight for the food courts. After buying food and selecting a table, I began to wolf it all down, knowing that although it tasted like crap, I needed the energy. However, I had not yet forgotten that I was still in possible danger; Jin could be here with me right now without my knowing. The only solution was not to linger too long and to just keep moving. So, with this thought in mind and the adrenaline coursing through my veins, I swallowed the last of my food and left.

Hurry, hurry…

But would I have to run like this forever? Would I live out the rest of my life in fear? Either that, or someday I'd have to face Jin head on and resolve this conflict. But as of right now, I just had to get away.

_Where are you, Mother? I'm coming; show me, so I can set you free…_

_Don't go home, Julia._

Wait, what? Had I heard right? Was it possible? Had my mother actually communicated with me? Shaking my head, I continued on, concluding that it was probably just the results of my mind not getting enough sleep. I believed in the supernatural, in the spirit world, but Michelle speaking to me from the dead was definitely impossible, a thing of Hollywood, nothing more.

_Listen to me. Don't go home._

Sighing, I wondered what would happen if I said something back. And, with a slight smirk, as if it was a game, I asked silently, _Why?_

And, to my horror and fascination, there was a reply: _Save yourself, and keep the rest safe. Don't go home…_

"Mom?" I suddenly said out loud, and my voice sounded frail, empty, and it echoed about the silent terminal.

This time there was no response, only the faint sounds of the classical music murmuring softy through the loudspeakers.

Though I did not speak to any of my family members, I did return home, but only to catch a brief, final glimpse. Once the taxicab pulled up into Blue Eagle Reservation, I quickly paid the driver, and watched as the receding taillights disappeared into the darkness.

It was 3 a.m. and sunrise was only two hours away. Staring at the empty road before me, I dared not enter my home. I was an outsider now, cursed, and if I went in, I would bring only sorrow and evil with me. Staring at the place of my birth, my childhood, I sighed deeply with longing, allowing my mind this final time to remember. The canyons, deep red gorges with its topaz rivers, the Arizona sun, hot earth underneath my bare feet…There was the neighborhood children, the boys I used to defeat in sparring, all of the festivals, the tribal dances and get-togethers. Smiling slightly, I relived the laughter, the joy, the sorrows, recalled my cousin Gabriel tugging on my braids, Aunt Cora, Ya'atsos and her turquoise and scarlet sand paintings; even that little cave I used to run off to was there, waiting for me.

And then there was Michelle, my lovely mother whose words I would always remember, whose smile and laughter I would always hold dear.

But, tearing my gaze away, I found myself slowly backing away from Blue Eagle. Adjusting the backpack on my shoulders, my mind swept itself clean of the memories. The only thing it saw now was the dismal, darkened road ahead, a path with an unknown end.

_Save yourself, and keep the others safe…_

Sighing, I turned away and began to walk in the opposite direction, abandoning my home, not knowing when I'd return, if ever. Where do I go from here? I'm not sure, perhaps north I guess. It'll take me farther away from home at least.

Awhile later, the first tendrils of sunlight leaked across the sky, golden-red fingers tentative as they chased away the night. It was beautiful to watch; I had never seen a sunrise such as this one. Smiling, I pitied the world, for it still slumbered, and missed out on this wondrous sight. Earth was indeed a magical thing, regardless of her countless flaws.

However, my awe and sense of calm was abruptly cut short as I felt something gently touch my head. Not bothering to stop walking, I removed whatever had fallen on me and examined it.

A large black feather lay in my palm.

Without warning, the cold fear rippled through my body once again, and I slowly turned, eyes darting everywhere. My hands clenched around the feather, teeth gritting…I couldn't see him, but it didn't matter. I felt him here with me, hidden, yet watching and waiting…

Snapping the feather in half and then letting it drop to the ground, I continued to walk on as if nothing had happened. The morning breeze seemed to whisper my name, but I ignored it, trying in vain to suppress the fear that choked my senses.

Jin had already found me.

* * *

Reviews are appreciated. 


	11. Wanderer

_Sail on _**silver wings**_ through this _**storm**

_What fortune love may bring back to my arms again, _

_The love of a former golden age._

_I am _**disabled by fears**_ concerning _**which course**_ to take._

_For now that wheels are turning,_

**I find my faith deserting me...**

_This night is filled with cries of_

_Dispossessed children in search of Paradise._

_A sign of un-resolve that,_

_Envisioned, drives the pinwheel on-and-on._

_I am disabled by fears concerning which course to take._

_When memory bears witness to_

_The _**innocence consumed in dying rage**

_The way lies through our love;_

_There can be no other means to the end,_

_Or _**keys to my heart...**

**You will never find.**

_You will never find…_

"_In Power We Trust The Love Advocated" _by The Gathering

"_Coyote is always out there waiting, and Coyote is always hungry" _–Navajo proverb

* * *

**Wanderer**

A cold chill passed through my body as more feathers gently drifted down, dancing and twisting before landing. Slowly, I tilted my head back, looking for the thing I knew was already there. Above me, hidden among the tree branches with his ebony wings folded gracefully behind him, sat Jin. I held my breath, hoping that the sun would hurry up already and lighten the sky, for perhaps the light would chase him away. Unfortunately for me, dawn took its time, and several stubborn shadows still lingered.

"Didn't I tell you it was dangerous to walk in the streets alone? Darkness has not yet disappeared completely."

I averted my gaze and instead pretended to be interested in the sidewalk beneath my sneakers. Knowing that running would be useless, I stayed where I was and sighed deeply, trying in vain to find some kind of calm.

"Someone could see you," I whispered softly, so softly I doubted Jin could hear me. "How will you explain your presence if a person sees you?"

Jin laughed gently, a sound that sent shivers slithering up my skin. "Do you think I would really care?"

"No…but the Devil is not a creature of light, Jin. You belong in the shadows. Leave me alone."

He quieted, but only for a moment, then said, "Come back to me, Julia."

The sky lightened slightly, the Arizona sun beginning to emerge from behind the clouds, and I took a few steps forward in a sudden temptation to run. The air began to moisten, to heat, and already little beads of sweat formed on my skin. Or was that from the fear?

"Do you intend to run your whole life?" Jin asked softly, and this time my eyes met his.

"Well, you managed to do it just fine yourself. So, yes, if I have to, I'm sure I can pull it off," I replied harshly, and Jin's face hardened into a mask of anger.

"Don't speak of things you don't understand," he snarled, "If you had my curse you would be running too."

I shook my head with a bitter smile. "The Gene is only a small portion of this, Jin. You still don't understand."

The sky was now a rosy pink, and with renewed confidence I continued onward. I could hear the rustling of the trees as Jin struggled to keep up with me and remain unseen at the same time.

"What can I do to make you come back to me? You must understand that I am also Jin Kazama! The Gene does not have me completely yet…" he pleaded.

Ignoring him, I only quickened my pace in response.

"Julia, listen to me. Without you I have no chance of overcoming the Gene. You have to help me! Are you just going to let me be taken over like this?"

Was he trying to persuade me using guilt? Damn him. Turning on him in a sudden rage, I snarled, "Don't pull that bullshit on me; you're pathetic, Jin Kazama. Leave me alone; I will not say it again. You've done enough."

Suddenly, Jin swooped down from the trees towards me, and as he reached out, he managed to seize my wrist in one lighting swift motion. Seeing how my nerves were already on fire from the adrenaline, I immediately shoved him off, then followed with a vicious palm strike to his chin, snapping his head back. Rolling away quickly, I then regained my balance, knees bent and fists raised.

"Let's just end this right now, Jin. I won't let you do this to me," I panted, beginning to circle around him. It was risky to challenge him, stupid as well, but at the moment it was either fight or flight. And right now, I needed to give running a break.

He shook his head slightly and rubbed at his chin where I had struck him. It was a powerful strike, painful, but instead of reacting to the attack Jin instead remained motionless. "No, I don't want to fight you."

"And why not? We both know that I'll never come back to you. It's over; deal with it. So why don't you stop following me and just fight!"

"No. I would never hurt you," was his quiet reply, and at that I uttered a bitter laugh, a sound so harsh it caused a flicker of sorrow to cross Jin's face.

"You know, all I wanted was to love you. I tried many times to understand. But unless you can bring back my mother, I will never feel that way again," I said softly, and my knuckles began to ache from my tightly clenched fists.

The Japanese man then cast his gaze to the heavens where the sky was finally beginning to turn white. In the distance I could hear the soft murmuring of the larks as they stirred from their slumber, and the soft clangs of church bells as the city came to life. A small gray sliver was all that remained of the moon, and wispy, pale clouds crawled in to take its place.

Jin flashed me one last longing look before he took to the sky. "You're right; I belong in the shadows. But that doesn't mean I will not come for you, Julia. Run as far as you want, but know that I will always find you."

The sky flashed with a brief golden brilliance as the sun emerged from the clouds, and in that moment Jin vanished.

* * *

I did not see Jin for a long while after that, but that did not mean that he was not present. For at night, when the light retreated, he came to me in dreams…

On and on it went like this, the days of travelling and the haunted nights, the same routine over and over again, and soon time had no meaning. It could have been three days, three weeks, possibly three months, but it didn't matter. All that I cared about was staying alive and, though my mother taught me not to hate, my heart hated anyway. I did nothing to try to suppress it for I knew no other way to feel. It's very easy to hate. Trying to love Jin, trusting him, was a constant battle, but hating him was so simple, so relieving. It was an empty kind of hatred, the kind that left you feeling hollow and barren after the anger abated, and there was always nothing but the raw heat and the loathing. It was a useless emotion.

Survival mode kicked in, and I soon found myself unable to stay still in one place for more than a few days. Always on the move, I found myself constantly looking over my shoulder, dagger and fists at the ready, eyes open and aware, every nerve on fire, legs poised to flee and run at any moment, yet at the same time ready to face the relentless shadows that plagued my footsteps. I was a vagabond now, a wanderer, driven by fear and regret, resentment and pure survival instinct, and a fierce desire to overcome the failures of my past, one being Jin Kazama. At first, all of this had been about avenging my mother's spirit and making Jin suffer for what he had done. But now, after all of these days of solitude, I began to think differently.

Perhaps I sought forgiveness at the same time, maybe even a sense of peace. The world just seemed so crazy right now; I couldn't think clearly. The earth was always around me, but somehow I felt as if she was missing, because nowadays I barely noticed her beauty like I used to.

For I know that somewhere out there, beyond that sunset, beyond this fear and these mistakes, lies serenity. And to have just a little taste of it would be enough for me.

I know what you're thinking. So your mommy and cousin are dead—so _what_. Get over it, be stronger; stop with the angst and resentment crap and just beat the shit out of that Kazama jackass. Stop running and just deal with him right now!

But is it really that easy? If it was then wouldn't we all be happy? Wouldn't all of our problems be solved? Michelle was my life. Without her, I now have nothing. And as for Jin…well, you already know that part, don't you. Besides, if I hadn't run, then I would never have—well, we'll get there soon enough.

Anyway, in my eyes, to complete this journey was to be alone, and that was the only option.

But the loneliness wasn't so bad at times. It kept me strong, kept me wary, and reminded me of all that the Mishima's had done to my family. But when night fell and I found myself curled up in some moldy motel room, solitary and with only the cold wind blowing kisses at my window, I felt the longing, the hollowness. That hard, relentless throbbing deep in my chest refused to go away, and it returned every night to accompany me in place of the tears. I heard my mother's voice sometimes…but then again, that could just be Jin screwing with my head.

And just when I thought that I'd go crazy from the silence and the solitude, that fortress of ice would erect itself, and I'd move on once more. I was a survivor by nature, an adapter, just as my Native American ancestors were hundreds of years ago. The Earth sang in my veins, flowed in my blood, and I managed to find a way.

But if I thought that I'd make this journey alone, then I was greatly mistaken.

* * *

As I lie awake in the motel bed, staring out the window at the moonless sky, I remembered the coyote. I remembered his coat, coarse and gray, and how that had only added to his beauty. There had been a deceptive shine to his pelt, an alluring trait that hid all other flaws. There was the pink tongue, the hard yet gentle yellow eyes, and the playful grin right before the vicious bite.

I'd had plenty of opportunities to run from that cave, but the coyote's initial friendly banter had kept me in place. He had seemed so harmless, strangely beautiful, misunderstood…

And as I drifted off into sleep, the image of the coyote rippled and distorted as it was replaced with Jin's obsidian eyes and cold stare.

_He smiled at me, a single hand extended._

"_Come back to me, Julia. You didn't mean what you said," he whispered._

_Dark eyes slowly ebbed to deep crimson and that's when I began to panic. In the dream, I emitted a sound I did not know myself capable of creating. It was a strangled noise, frantic, like some trapped animal, and I couldn't seem to quell the sound. Again and again I tried to run, to flee Jin's temptations, but everywhere I looked I saw only his face. _

"_I love you. Please come back to me."_

"_Never!" I screamed, and the moon turned as scarlet as blood. It began to undulate, to bleed, and black feathers fell from the sky. I suddenly felt Jin's powerful grip on my hand, making me scream as he found the scar and squeezed, the pain scorching my skin._

"_Then I will make you."_

I woke up in a cold sweat a moment later and immediately began to pack away my belongings. It hadn't even been a full day and already I was leaving the motel, for with the coming of this nightmare I knew that Jin was close. It hadn't been my first dream since my departure from Mexico, and each one had always instilled fear within me. The best option was just to keep moving.

One part of me was glad that Jin was following me for that it meant that my plan was working—Arizona and my people were safe. But the other half feared that I would be a wanderer forever, a woman with no purpose, no family, no home, no life…

Well…shit happens.

I often wondered why Jin didn't just kill me and get it over with, why he had refused to fight me right after I'd just broken his heart. It would have been so easy and yet he insisted on silently following me and tormenting me with dreams. Was he that desperate for my companionship? For my love? If so, then that only made me fear him even more. Loneliness does things to people, I guess. I should know.

After slinging the backpack over my shoulders, I left the motel quickly, and on the way, flung the desk clerk my room key without a backward glance. I could almost see the old man's blue-eyed glare as I let the door slam. Ever since I'd arrived at his motel he'd been holding a grudge against me, but for good reason. Julia Chang no longer cared about courtesy and hospitality anymore after all, especially with strangers.

Sighing, I glared at the empty asphalt road in front of me. Where to go next…Well, according to the little signpost next to the road, I was now in Wyoming, a state I knew next to nothing about, only that it wasn't nearly as hot as Arizona. Had I really traveled that far? Sighing, I pushed the thought out of my mind and continued on. What did it matter anyway?

The Wyoming sun shined softly today, and I was grateful, for my body was weary and no breeze blew to relieve some of the heat. Pulling out an apple, I adjusted the glasses on my nose and took a bite of the fruit. However, knowing that it wouldn't sustain me, I searched for a restaurant.

What I found was more like a bar and with the dimly lit room and the overwhelming stench of cigarette smoke, the place was anything but inviting. I should have settled for a nice, simple Asian bistro, not a gruff, all-American biker pub. But for the moment, hunger was more important than a nice ambience, so I entered.

Neon beer signs hung from crooked nails on the grimy walls, a gray haze of cigarette smoke lingered in the air, and boisterous laughter competed with Metallica's "Wherever I May Roam," which blared from an old jukebox. The music seemed to shake the whole place, and I could feel my eardrums beginning to ache.

The moment I entered, all eyes turned to me; I obviously stood out, since my version of their leather was blue jeans and a brown, cotton T-shirt. And, looking around the room, I realized I'd never seen so much black leather and tattoos in my life. Most of the people within were dingy, burly biker men and women with their red bandanas and wild hair, large bottles of beer clutched within stubby fingers, and thin cigarettes protruding sickly between yellowed mouths. Let's just say they weren't the most attractive people I've seen.

However, I swallowed my uneasiness and took a seat at the bar.

"Sprite for me please," I ordered, folding my hands in front of me.

The bartender, a thirty-something-year-old white sleaze bag with an unkempt beard, looked me up and down several times and smiled slowly.

"Drink's on the house, darlin'," he said with a sly smile, and placed a large cup of whiskey in front of me.

"I'm sorry, sir, I don't drink. I'm only twenty," I tried to explain.

Everyone around me laughed, continuing to stare.

The bartender smiled wider and leaned in close so I could smell his breath. I didn't even try to conceal my disgust as he exhaled, turning my head away in distaste.

"Looks like our little visitor don't know the rules! How lucky for me. Listen, as long as you're decent looking, darlin', age don't matter here in my bar. So, drink up. Later on, you and me can uh," he winked, "chat."

Gritting my teeth, I pushed the whiskey away, and warned, "Please, sir, I don't wanna have to hurt you. Now, about that Sprite…"

The laughter increased and the bartender's grin only grew; I could already feel my muscles aching for combat. "A feisty one, are ya? Well, I—"

"For Christ's _sake_, Mel, just give the girl her goddamn drink."

I turned to find the source of the voice and discovered a man sitting off by himself. What really caught my attention was his hair—it stuck straight up, like a stiff hairbrush, and the slight shadows of a blond beard lined his chin and upper lip.

The bartender named Mel grumbled slightly and replied, "Dammit, Paul, you always ruin everything. I was just bein' nice."

My rescuer, Paul, (more like _Mel's_ rescuer) shook his head and took a sip of his drink. Well, I'd found my new seat.

After I'd received my Sprite and ordered a sandwich, I went over to him and sat down without asking. Sipping my drink, I noticed he was obviously a motorcyclist as well, with his leather jacket and pants; but, surprisingly, he possessed a friendly face and a courteous demeanor.

"Thank you," I finally said before taking a bite of my food.

He merely shrugged. "It's nothing. These guys, especially Mel, that joke of a bartender, can get so sleazy sometimes; it pisses me off. I only come here for the beer."

My mouth twisted slightly in the beginnings of a half smile, but I left it at that. Though I'd just met him, I decided that I liked this Paul character. Of course, he wasn't to be trusted, but at least I had found a friendly face.

"Paul Phoenix," he introduced, extending his hand, and I shook it politely.

"Julia," I replied simply, deciding not to give him my surname, and I noticed how Paul accepted it without question.

"But don't worry, even though this place is where we bikers hang out, it usually ain't so bad, especially when Mel's gone. He's just subbing for Raleigh at the moment."

"Who's Raleigh?" I asked, wanting to talk more. I had forgotten how good it felt to carry on a conversation with someone.

"The real owner of the bar. Last week he got beat up by some red-haired Korean jackass. He had to be hospitalized and the redhead got away before I could punish him for hurting Raleigh."

"That's a shame. Why would he do that?"

"Who knows. He could kick vicious though, the little punk. Relatively good fighter…but not as good as me."

At this Paul grinned and took another sip of his beer. "So if any of these guys try and give you trouble, just look for me."

I thanked him politely, but concealed the smirk behind my Sprite. Paul obviously had no idea what I was capable of; I didn't need a man to defend me.

As if to prove my point, when I got up from my seat to get a refill, a nearby biker reached out and smacked my behind. He laughed shamelessly, as if he'd done nothing wrong, and I felt the familiar anger beginning to take form. Turning to him nice and slow, I felt my fists balling up.

"You want some more, honey? 'Cause these talented hands can do many _other_ things to that fine little ass o' yours," he sneered, and his companions erupted into laughter. The smirk on my face widened.

Before the bastard could react, I'd sent an uppercut into his face, then followed up with a hard elbow strike to his gut. He staggered backward, the table behind him turning over, and glass shattered onto the wooden floor. When he recovered, a smile lit up his face, and he gingerly touched his bleeding lip.

"Well what do'ya know! This little bitch knows how to fight! But that was a mistake, darling. Nobody gets away with that," he snarled, and lunged for me. However, I never gave him the chance to attack.

Let's just say that in the next few seconds he found himself slammed up against the wall with my knee pressed up tight against his groin. He squirmed in my grasp, but although he was nearly twice my size, he didn't dare make a move.

"You wanna apologize, or should I rearrange your crotch?" I growled into his ear. As predicted, the biker apologized profusely, and I reluctantly released him. Typical. Men will do anything when their balls are in jeopardy.

Before leaving, I turned around to relish the shock and admiration on Paul Phoenix's face. The rest of the bar was surprised as well, especially Mel, whose mouth was wide open. I guess he did get lucky—lucky that it wasn't he that had been stupid enough to make a move on the "visitor."

"See you," I said to Paul with a curt nod, then walked out.

However, Paul wouldn't let me get away so easily. Once he'd caught up with me, he asked, "What was _that_ back there? That was unbelievable; how come you never told me you could fight like that?"

I shrugged. "We've only just met. Besides, there are lots of things you never get to know about people."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Man, Julia, too bad you didn't come sooner. I've had to put up with those perverts for forever. Now they'll think twice before pinching another ass."

"Good. Women deserve better than that," I stated flatly.

Paul stopped me suddenly with a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Hey. Why are you here anyway?"

"Long story," I sighed, looking off into the distance, "and I've got neither the time nor the desire to retell it."

He was quiet for awhile, respecting my privacy, and I was grateful to him for it. The last thing I needed right now was some annoying little snoop wanting to know every detail of my life.

After a moment, Paul said, "My bike's out back…"

Before he could finish, I uttered, "Thanks, but no thanks. I prefer to walk."

What I didn't say was that I had no idea where I was going, and I couldn't have told Paul a destination anyway. Also, this journey was one of solitude. Paul was kind, and he was the first guy in a long time that wasn't trying to hit on me. He'd make a nice friend…but I didn't have time for those anymore.

The blonde biker was silent once more, then said, "Well, then I hope you stop by again."

"Sure." I highly doubted it, but I gave him the lie he wanted to hear.

Paul paused, then murmured, "And Julia, I hope you find whatever you're looking for."

"What makes you say that?"

He shrugged before he said, "A woman like you wandering around alone in such a boring state like Wyoming just doesn't strike me as normal, you know?"

The half smile returned. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Yeah…well anyway, thanks for stopping by. Good luck."

"Thanks. See you, Paul," I said with a little wave, and continued onward without a backward glance.

**Jin**

If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it is yours.

You know what? I hate that damn cliché.

I never set her free. She's not coming back…so she definitely will never be mine again. I fucking hate that cliché.

Watching her now, walking alone on that abandoned road in Wyoming, I realized again that she truly didn't love me. I felt her fear, observed as she looked over her shoulder, eyes darting back and forth, breath coming in quick, short bursts, heartbeat crazy with paranoia. I hated seeing her like this, for I knew that Julia had changed so much. That woman I'd fallen in love with had vanished. The worst part was knowing that I was the cause of it all.

Fine. So be it. She had been the only good thing that happened to me, and now she's gone. Julia Chang was the only reason why I kept fighting, the only reason why I continued to seek a cure…but now she felt only fear and hatred for me, and so was it worth it anymore?

Obviously not. And that's why I surrender.

Closing my eyes, I felt the light dwindling. I felt the remnants of the goodness vanish, and for the first time in my life I welcomed the Gene. Its poison seeped into my blood, instilling itself deep within my heart, and then, perhaps, my soul. I knew that succumbing was irreversible, dangerous, stupid, but I allowed it anyway; I have grown weary of searching for an antidote. Being a good man was more difficult than I'd perceived.

It was painless, and I smiled sadly, wondering why I hadn't done it earlier. It would have made everything so much easier.

"This is for you, Jules."

Gritting my teeth, I felt the claws unsheathe, wings shredding my back as they viciously emerged, dark tattoo on my shoulder searing my skin as the transformation completed. The Devil Gene burned through my blood, set my nerves on fire, and I felt an unexpected, renewed energy scorch through my body. Opening my mouth, I wailed to the night, celebrating and mourning my birth into darkness.

A moment later, somewhere close, a wolf answered my call. It was a cry of defiance, and a sudden, unexpected chill crawled underneath my skin as his voice pierced through the trees. He refused to acknowledge my power, refused to share the night with me, rejected my presence. I smirked; he should not be so audacious. He dared challenge me?

Rage seeped into my chest as the wolf silently emerged from the forest; his black pelt kept him hidden in the safety of the darkness, yet I could see the occasional flicker of his golden eyes. Baring knife-sharp canines, he uttered a low growl, hackles raised and eyes narrowed in a blatant threat. Angered, I struck out at him but swiped only air as the wolf turned and fled, disappearing, becoming of the shadows.

All was silent, but I knew that somewhere out there, deep within the gloom of the forest, the black wolf watched and waited.

Somehow, I knew I would see him again.

* * *

…_And _**the earth becomes my throne**

**I adapt to the unknown**

_Under wandering stars I've grown_

**By myself but not alone...**

**Rover, wanderer**

**Nomad, vagabond**

_Call me what you will…_

_From"Wherever I May Roam" _by Metallica


	12. Red and Black

_The picture on the wall is _**chaotic**

_I don't want to look at it_

_But when I do, I cannot speak because of the _**confusion in my head**

_I am a fish and I want to swim away_

_But when I do, the _**red color**_ comes and gets me_

_It is fierce and it moves slow…_

_From "Red is a Slow Colour" _by The Gathering

"_You cannot see the future with tears in your eyes" _–Navajo proverb

**Red and Black**

The dreams worsened after that day in the bar. Jin's little threats were always frightening, but in the previous nightmares there had always been a hint of that humanity, that slight goodness among the threats, if that made any sense. I had been able to at least detect an inkling of that man I used to love alongside the demon. But now, when I saw him again in my mind's eye, crimson irises glowing and dark wings beckoning me close, there was only corruption, delirium, and the infinite darkness. The light that was Jin Kazama was now absent, and I felt a new presence in his place…why? Had he finally succumbed to the demon within?

Sometimes the fear and uncertainty was so great that I woke up unable to move, and often I forced myself to stay awake in an attempt to avoid the nightmares. It was always useless, for they would come one way or another. Sometimes, I tried in vain to recall Ya'atsos' spells, the ones that helped to shield a person from the demonic world…but then I remembered that the whole time she'd been trying to teach me, I'd been daydreaming about painting or wondering when my next sparring drill was. It was my own culture, and I'd refused to learn; it's one decision I'll forever regret. Why couldn't I have been a shaman as well as a fighter? Why couldn't I have at least taken the time to learn the basics?

With each day that passed by I seemed to be losing focus of what I was doing. I didn't know where to go, not that I even knew from the beginning. Everything was blurry; what's going to happen to me on this road? Sometimes I wondered what I was doing, why I'd been so stupid, why I hadn't just stayed home.

There were too many regrets, too many thoughts trying to fit themselves together. They spun before me, a thunderstorm of memories and forgotten images, a canvas of jumbled colors, spattered paint of blood and secrets and confusion. A montage of love and hatred and deception, a hopeless dream of redemption and tarnished tranquility, a coyote's bite and a loving caress, mother's tears and lover's kiss, the color red…

I'm not making any sense. What else is new?

Smirking slightly, I thought about the possibility of me losing my mind. Once I'd thought myself to be the most logical, practical, organized person. Now I could barely think straight. I needed release—perhaps a long conversation with my old friend Christie…or a nice canvas and paints.

My fingers left a trail of fingerprints across the glass as I stared longingly inside, forehead pressed against the display window. I suddenly felt like six-year-old Julia again at the bookstore (believe it or not, I chose books over lollipops) and I was reminded of that innocence I used to have. What I'd give to be some ignorant little kid again, with Michelle holding my hand and the canyons free for my exploring, no worries, only another bright new day and the warm breeze on my skin.

Sighing, I willed myself to leave, for my money supply was running low, but my body remained planted in front of the art store. Paints and sketchpads, oil pastels and chalk, easels and the most delicate horse-hair brushes…

"Miss? Would you like to come in?"

Turning, I noticed the manager poking her head outside, a bright smile plastered onto her face. She was older, probably in her mid-sixties yet still attractive, and her graying hair hung in thick waves across her shoulders. Her green eyes were warm and friendly, and the white, paint-spattered gypsy skirt she wore jangled from the little bells sewn at the bottom. Bohemian was a nice change from strictly leather, tattoo bearing Biker and, smiling back, I nodded and followed her in.

"Anything in particular you're looking for?" she asked politely, and I shook my head.

"No, just browsing thanks," I replied, heading immediately for the oil pants and brushes.

Inhaling deeply, I relished the smell of the paints and new canvases, and gently ran my fingers over the soft ends of the brushes. God I missed painting. What's it been, five, six years now since I've picked up a brush? Yeah, just about.

Thinking back, I recalled my last piece, the one of the red-eyed boy…I wondered what I would paint now if I tried? Would I paint Jin's image—or something else?

The painting showed me my future once…would it again?

Sighing, I smoothed my fingers lightly over the taut canvases, wondering.

"You doing ok Miss?"

The manager was by my side again, and a look of concern crossed her face. Smiling, I nodded.

"I'm fine. It's just that I haven't painted in such a long time," I murmured, fingering the art supplies again, "and I'm…"

Trailing off, I simply shrugged and looked away. "I don't know what," I whispered.

"Afraid?" she finished for me, and my eyes met hers, widening a little.

"Well…" I sighed, knowing she'd guessed right.

"I was like that too once: so afraid of failure, so afraid of what it might show me. But don't worry; we all get like that at times. It's all there somewhere and always will be. All you have to do is stop thinking and just…" she said softly, "…let it all go."

Well, I'd been trying to "let it all go" for a long time now, and it was easier said than done. She made painting sound so simple.

Selecting a brush, the manager handed it to me. The handle was thick, and the freshly sanded wood smelled sweet and fresh, the long bristles coarse on my fingertips.

"Follow me," she said simply, and I did, seeing how I had nothing else to do.

The woman led me to the back room and shut the door behind us. The walls were covered in murals, from the bottom up to the ceiling. Paint spattered the door, the furniture, and a few of the murals were just random whirlwinds of color instead of definite shapes. There were suns and moons, vast landscapes and laughing, bright-eyed children, smiling lovers and yellow blossoms; it was one of the most amazing things I'd seen. Her art was so full of light and joy, of innocence and love. She portrayed no negativity, no darkness nor sorrow, and although I was more of a serious painter and wasn't into the whole happy-go-lucky theme, I decided that I liked her style.

"Did you do all this?" I asked in awe, craning my neck up in an effort to see every little detail.

"Yep, sure did. Oh, except for," she said, then pointed to a wall behind me, "that one there. You see I'm a retired art teacher from Scotland, but for four years I taught in Japan. Real nice country, little hectic, but nice. A former Japanese student of mine returned to see me and painted that on my wall. She was very talented, but this piece…I hadn't expected this one."

Turning, I looked at the painting she spoke of. This particular mural was a harsh contrast to the store manager's light, gentle-hued pieces, for it was done all in black, gray, and white, save for a few areas of red here and there. It depicted a raven-haired woman wearing a white dress with her eyes closed, face serene yet filled with sorrow, and clutched against her breast was a blood-red rose, the thorns piercing her hands. Little lines of blood trickled down her wrists and forearms, and this image caused unwanted memories of the coyote to return. My eyes traveling southward, I then noticed grinning demons pulling at her clothes, horned shadows clutching at her hair, and little flames of black and gray licking at her heels.

I looked away quickly, heartbeat suddenly racing, and turned to the manager.

"Why would someone paint something like this?" I asked quietly.

There had to be a reason. Sure there was a possibility that the artist behind the mural was just some Goth drama queen looking to rebel against the normal sunshine-and-rainbows ordeal that the manager seemed to be obsessed with. But from the expression on the woman's face, from the way the jagged shadows seemed to dance and come to life, I doubted that was the case. For after looking at that picture, I felt something deeper than awe and curiosity. What had happened to this painter before she'd laid her brush against that wall?

"I don't know," the manager sighed, answering my previous question, yet at the same time seeming to read my mind.

Pulling out a large, blank canvas, she set it down gently upon a nearby easel, then removed a cardboard box from a shelf. Opening the box, she removed several large tubes of paint and squeezed each color, blues and greens, fiery reds and pale, smooth yellows, onto a simple plastic palette.

"It's been so many years, I already forgot her name! But I still remember her face; she was a beautiful young woman, very bright, happy girl. She loved to paint nature, loved the light…but then, as you can see from this painting, she'd suddenly developed a liking for the dark hues."

The manager shrugged, pulling out some more paints. "Styles change all the time, I guess. But I asked her that same question once she'd finished that painting, and all she said was, 'Sensei, I met a man—but he's not a man. I am afraid, but he needs my help.' And then she left without explaining herself. Now, is that just weird or what?"

Feeling my heart breaking, I realized now who this artist was. And why was it that of all stores, of all places, I'd just happened to stop by this particular one?

"Was her name Jun Kazama?" I whispered, almost inaudibly.

"Why yes! That's it, now I remember," the manager smiled suddenly, resting her hands on her plump hips, "How'd you know that?"

Squeezing back the tears, I whispered, "My God; what are the chances?"

"Pardon?"

"Nothing," I uttered, looking again at the mural.

That poor, poor woman. She had not fled like I had, but instead faced Kazuya—and paid with her life. But did that mean that, unlike Jun, I was a coward for running? No, I don't think so; I simply did not want history to repeat itself. I would carve my own path; Michelle's spirit lived within me after all, not Jun Kazama's.

Sadly, fortunately, my love for her son just hadn't been strong enough like hers had been for Kazuya Mishima. I'll save my heart for someone else, thanks…if I do end up finding someone that is. And hopefully, if all of this chaos did somehow come to an end, if Jin did somehow find a cure, I wished with my whole heart that he would find that life-saving love someday. He just wouldn't find it in me.

Handing the palette to me, Jun's former art teacher gestured towards the blank canvas.

"Well here you go, all yours! But let me ask you: did you know Jun?" she asked me curiously

"No. But her son was…a friend of mine," I murmured, taking the palette from her hands as I felt a lump rise to my throat.

"She has a son now? How nice. Jun settled down to start a family with that man she met. I always knew she was that type."

"Sure was," I sighed impatiently.

"Well, when you see her son again, tell him to say hi to his mother for me, will you? She was such a talented student."

"I will," I said through clenched teeth, wishing this woman would just shut up and leave me alone. She had no idea how much it hurt to hear her words.

"…Anyway, I'll be up front if you need me," she smiled, then left the room, to my relief.

She shut the door gently behind her, and I could still smell the heady scent of her perfume. I must have sat there for a good five minutes straight just staring at that canvas, paints in hand, brush in the other, unsure of where to start. My eyes kept flicking back up to Jun's painting, and I forced my gaze away.

Thankfully, Jun's morbid mural soon escaped my mind, and for some reason the color red was all I could think about. It was there in front of my eyes, on my lips, the word and the color floating around in my mind…but the brush remained motionless within my hand.

_Red…red…red…_

Unable to stand it any longer, I dipped the brush into the clump of deep scarlet paint, and, with a trembling hand, smeared it across the bleached spaces. The fiery color was a shocking, sudden contrast to the stark whiteness of the canvas, like blood on snow—or like a red rose clutched against a white breast. My hand lowered, and I stared at the single red slash against the pale canvas; though simple, it was strangely still very lovely all by itself. However, another ten minutes passed and the solitary red mark remained.

Dipping my brush into the black this time, I attempted to continue, but found that I could not. Again I tried, and a second time, but the single scarlet streak remained and nothing more.

It was still there, all of those thoughts, those unanswered questions and fears; I couldn't paint. If that red streak was my future, like that painting of Jin had been, then I had no idea what lied in store for me. Damn it, why I had even come here? I'd only been wasting my time. Cursing under my breath some more, I knew it was useless.

Gently setting down the brush and palette, I rose and left the room, heading for the manager.

"Well that was quick," she stated once I'd reached her.

I shook my head. "A red stripe of nothing, that's all. What does it mean, do you know?"

"Can't say I do, Miss. It depends on how you see it. There's never a real definite answer when it comes to these things."

Sighing in frustration, I said, "No, it's simple. Every color has a meaning behind it! You're an artist; please, just give me an answer."

Jun's red rose fluttered before my mind's eye, the blood running down her wrists…and then there was Paul's red-haired man…then the blood on my hands as the coyote's fangs came down…Jin's crimson eyes…

The manager merely smiled at me, though there was a strange expression on her face as if she believed me to be crazy. Which I probably was.

"If it was simple, then you wouldn't even be here now, would you? You'll find the answer soon enough," was her vague reply.

Damn her. What she didn't understand was that I needed to know the answer _right now_, because if I didn't have at least _some_ idea of what was going to happen to me…well, who knows. But as of now I was still walking blindly forward. I hated this journey, hated trying to guess what might happen next, hated fearing the possibilities, hated the night's loneliness and the haunted dreams; I had grown sick and tired of this aimless wandering everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

And I didn't want Jun's fate. I didn't want to paint that kind of picture in the end.

**_Another nightmare..._**

_"Remember that dream six years ago? The boy with the sad mouth and the sad eyes, the one that inspired your painting?"_

_Eyes widening, I stared back at him, silent horror leaking across my face. How did he know about that? _

_The demon merely smiled. "Yes, of course you remember."_

_"It was you. I've known it for a long time," I whispered, and the scarlet irises flashed with amusement._

_"Yes, Julia, it was me. I was fifteen then, only fifteen when Jun was taken from me. And ever since my mother's death, I have been calling out to you."_

_"Coincidence," I insisted, taking a step backward._

_Jin laughed harshly, claws unsheathing. "After all of this time you still think this is all some sort of coincidence? Hardly, Julia, hardly. You see, from the beginning you and I were meant for one another. It is fate."_

_Closing my eyes, I forced his smile away._

_"I don't believe in fate…"_

**_Dream of the wolf..._**

Surprisingly, this particular motel room was actually decent. I found no rats or cockroaches, no grime or graffiti, and the sheets for once smelled fresh instead of moldy. They even had down pillows and a little TV.

Setting my backpack down onto the bed, I took in my surroundings carefully: the salmon-pink walls and yellow bedspread, teal carpet and lime green loveseat in the corner, and the random black and white photographs of landscapes hanging precariously from the walls. It was basically painful to the eyes, what with all the clashing colors and horrible furniture, but, shrugging, I knew I'd have to deal with it. Besides, I wouldn't be here long, so it didn't matter anyway.

Feeling in need of some relaxation, I removed from my bag a stubby scented candle I'd taken from a restaurant I'd visited. After lighting it, I set it on the floor across from me, the tiny white flame flickering slightly, and slowly closed my eyes. Setting my hands onto my knees, I inhaled and exhaled deeply, then repeated the breathing technique until I could feel my body beginning to relax. Meditation had been one of the only things I'd liked of Ya'atsos' teachings, and Michelle had often practiced it with me, especially after intense training sessions.

Pretty soon the motel room disappeared, and so did the bed and the carpet beneath me. The candle vanished, then my body, and for a few moments all I felt was the cool, peaceful tendrils of calm surrounding me. For once my mind was clear, void of all worries and jumbled thoughts, emptied of all fears and of the color red…

Unfortunately, I must have fallen asleep, because in the next moment I found myself in the middle of a vast forest. A full moon hung in the sky, her silver light cloaking me in a ghostly pallor. Creeping in silently, swiftly, the cold enfolded me close within her grasp, making my breath come out in frosty wisps of air; I could almost hear the chaotic beating of my heart within my chest. The forest was strangely quiet and serene, and it sent a chill of fear up my back; what was out there? This was no ordinary forest, for had I been anywhere else I would have embraced the wildlife, but here I felt as if a shadow moved beyond those woods, that an unknown foe watched me from the veil of the tree branches.

The old paranoia returning, I felt for certain that Jin was among the trees, somewhere in the darkness, watching and waiting for me to flee so he could hunt me down. I could smell the damp, earthy scent of the moss and the slight aroma of pine needles, felt the cold kiss my skin, raising the hairs on the back of my neck, and I could even feel the soft grass beneath my bare feet. It was all so frighteningly vivid. Where was the motel room with its salmon walls and shabby furniture? Where was the candle, the bed…where was I?

A soft rustling to my right caught my attention, and I found that I could not run. I was trapped, stuck in this dream world; had Jin finally decided to kill me this time? The fear welled up in my gut, and the cold refused to leave my body…

In the shadows in front of me, I could see a pair of golden eyes glaring back.

Unable to move or look away, I watched and waited with my fists clenching, my body aching to flee.

But instead of the expected red-eyed gray coyote, a black wolf emerged from the forest. Silver moonlight fell on the sleek ebony pelt, and the golden eyes seemed to peer straight through me. He moved as if a shadow, as if he had been born from the night itself, a beautiful, haunting creature, and I suddenly found myself approaching the predator.

Wolves traveled in packs, yet I had before me a lone wolf. Meeting his gaze, I wondered what had happened in his life to result in his solitude.

As my hand made contact with the dark fur, I was filled with a sense of safety, a feeling of peace. There was no hesitation like there'd been with the coyote, no doubt, no fear… The wolf remained motionless, and as I began to stroke his pelt he merely closed his eyes slightly as he sat at my feet. He licked my fingers once but otherwise remained calm and silent, the golden irises never leaving mine. Closing my eyes, I slowly lay down beside the creature.

And as I drifted off to sleep, I knew the wolf would remain with me throughout the night to protect my slumber, keeping the nightmares and the coyote at bay.

The following morning I found myself on the bed instead of the floor, tucked snuggly underneath the blanket and sheets. The candle had gone out, and little drops of sunlight pushed their way through the curtained windows in the corner. Was it already the next morning?

Rubbing my eyes, I recalled that strange dream I'd had. It had all seemed so vivid, so real, as if the wolf had truly appeared before me. The unexplainable thing was that my shirt and hair smelled heavily of pine needles and damp earth, not to mention that this was the first night since I'd left Mexico that a nightmare had not plagued my sleep.

Slipping on a T-shirt, I thought again about the wolf. Why had he come to me? And why had I not experienced a nightmare while in his presence? Why had I not been afraid?

Removing my brush from my backpack, I ran the soft bristles through my tangled hair, swiftly braided the brown locks, had another red apple for breakfast, and then checked out of the motel. To my surprise, it was already nearing noon; this was also the first time I'd ever slept in while on this journey. I actually felt well rested for once and maybe even a little…relaxed? Well there's something new.

Digging into my pocket, I realized that I had just enough money to stash up on more food, and immediately headed for the little gas station I saw ten minutes later. For the past week I'd been living on only fruits, bread, and the occasional soggy sandwich, but that was it. Starving artist much? Ha.

As I scanned the shelves for food, glancing at the endless bags of chips and tempting boxes of doughnuts, at the little packages of beef jerky and hard candy, there was a commotion up at the checkout counter. It seemed like the cashiers were occupied, and for an instant, just for a fleeting moment, I considered grabbing that pack of beef jerky and jamming it into my sweater pocket. Thankfully, the temptation passed as quickly as it'd come. Instead, I picked out what I wanted like an honest customer, sorted out the amount of money needed, and headed for the register.

What I discovered wasn't just any regular commotion; it was a full-blown robbery. There were three masked men, all carried pistols, and the smallest one had his pointed at the two helpless cashiers.

"If you cooperate, nobody has to die. Put the money in the bag. _Now_!" he screamed as the other two hurriedly began to stuff food into black garbage bags.

It wasn't until the beef jerky had slipped from my grasp did any of them notice me. The plastic clattered against the ground, and the two thieves taking food looked up.

"Hey! On the floor now, bitch! Do you wanna die?" one cried, and I ducked just in time to avoid two bullets meant for my head.

"Jake you moron! I said not to hurt anyone!" the smallest gunmen shouted.

"Fuck off," the gunman named Jake said, and proceeded to fire several rounds into the ceiling.

Well, Wyoming just kept getting better and better. First a sleazy biker pub, Jun's eerie painting, and now armed robbery.

Screams echoed throughout the store as more shots were fired, and I stayed motionless, hoping that the attackers would just take what they wanted and leave. I'd been taught to defend myself against armed opponents, particularly ones with firearms, and I would have attacked them had it not been for the other people in the store with me. It would have been better if there'd only been one gunman, but under the current circumstances, I didn't want to risk the lives of these innocent people. It was best to wait and hope.

However, one woman was willing to risk it.

She was blonde, tall, slender and athletic, and as she suddenly seized one thief by the collar of his shirt and flung him effortlessly over her shoulder, I knew she was a martial artist. No woman could take out a burly, full-grown man like that without knowing the right technique. Blonde hair flying and with a face like it'd been carved from ice, she took on both thieves at the same time—and failed to notice the third gunman behind her. Worried about his doomed buddies, his focus had now fallen on the blonde fighter, and, knowing she might just save all of our lives today, I rushed the third man.

"Argh!" he grunted as I tackled him from behind, sending the pistol flying in the opposite direction.

Lifting him from off the ground, I sent a vicious jab to his nose then an uppercut to the gut, my elbows and fists pummeling him mercilessly in a flurry of adrenaline. Taking him by the shirt collar, I then slammed him into a nearby chip rack and sent him sprawling to the ground. Blood flowed from his nose and mouth as he searched frantically for his weapon. Enraged when he realized that it was nowhere to be found, he charged at me in desperation, eyes wild and breath ragged. Bracing myself, I then seized both of his forearms once he came within range, twisted them viciously until he cried out, then threw him over my shoulder. There was the satisfying sound of bones breaking, and a second later my attacker landed with a heavy thud, then lay motionless.

Meanwhile, the blonde woman had already taken care of her two thieves, and both of them lay unconscious on the floor with their wrists bound behind their backs. She merely stared at me from across the room with those steely eyes of hers.

"Impressive," she commented, but I ignored her.

"Are you _crazy_? You could have gotten someone killed!" I exclaimed.

"You're welcome," she responded flatly, and kneeled down to tie my gunmen's wrists together.

"Who knows what they could have done to these people," I continued.

"These people are safe now."

"You could've at least called the police first!"

"Oh please; gimme a break. The cops don't do shit here in America," she sneered, crossing her arms, "except eat donuts and pretend to look busy."

"That was still reckless."

"I knew what I was doing. We saved these people _and_ did the police's dirty work for them, so why are you complaining?"

I still thought she was crazy.

"They had guns. They could have easily killed a person or taken somebody hostage while you were trying to fend off those two," I tried again, refusing to let her be in the right.

With green eyes narrowing, a small smile twisted her lips. "Well, that didn't happen; you saw to that. You should just trust me when I say that I know what I'm doing. These guys were nothing compared to what I face everyday. I've done worse."

"And what exactly _do _you do everyday?" I snarled, picking up my beef jerky from the ground. There was something off, something mysterious and frightening about this woman. She certainly wasn't your average martial artist or Good Samaritan.

The people around us slowly began to rise from their hiding places, and I noticed several tear-stained faces and shocked expressions. Thankfully no lives had been taken, though these poor people might be traumatized for a bit. Helping an elderly woman to her feet, I continued to glare at the blonde woman, who proceeded to pay for her items, then turned to the cashiers.

"They're tied up and won't be able to escape. Call the cops, and everything should be fine. But if they do give you trouble," she said, then handed the three guns to the cashiers, "use these."

Turning, she walked out without another word.

People stared, wanted to shake our hands, thanked us profusely, but I barely noticed. Pushing past them all, I struggled to catch up to the blonde woman.

"Hey!" I called out, and she stopped in her tracks.

"I kill people for a living; does that answer your question? Now would you please go away?" she snarled, the icy gaze returning to her eyes.

An assassin? Well, I sure as hell hadn't been expecting that. For a moment I found myself speechless, and she smirked in amusement.

"I love it. It's the same expression every single time, no fail," she murmured, emerald eyes meeting mine, "I usually don't tell strangers like you, but hey, it's amusing."

"Well if you're truly a killer," I began, recovering from my initial shock, "then why did you let those thieves live?"

She merely shrugged, beginning to walk again. "Too many people around. However…"

The blonde assassin glanced at me quickly. "If I'd had that knife hidden in your pocket, I wouldn't have hesitated to cause damage."

My hand went instantly to my right jeans pocket and flashed her a wary look.

Her mouth shifted into that cold smile once more; there was something seriously wrong with this woman. "I'm Nina. So if you ever get the urge to have somebody killed, just call me."

Nina laughed slightly as if it was all some big joke, and proceeded to walk away again. However, I kept up with her and continued on with my interrogation. I didn't know exactly what it was, perhaps just some sick fascination, but I had a strange desire to get to know what lay behind Nina's icy exterior. I'd never known anyone like her before after all. This beautiful, seemingly normal blonde woman turned lethal killer must have a good explanation to why she'd chosen such an awful profession.

"Why an assassin?" I asked casually, glancing up at her again.

"Why not? It's easy and pays well. And didn't I tell you earlier to leave? I don't even know who you are," she said once she'd reached her car.

"You're lying…someone hurt you. Something happened to you, didn't it?" I asked boldly. I might as well have just asked for her to kill me.

Suddenly, the little buffalo knife from my pocket disappeared, and now lay clenched within the blonde woman's grasp. She'd been so fast I hadn't even realized it was gone until the silver tip was only a few millimeters from my nose.

"I don't talk about the past. Now you can either take my advice and leave, or you can go home with a new face," she threatened, cold eyes boring into mine.

"I'll leave," I relented, holding up my hands. After a moment, Nina reluctantly lowered the knife and returned it to me. We stood there looking at each other for a second, until Nina spoke, her voice low.

"Something happened to you too," she said quietly, and for an instant I thought I saw her eyes soften. Then again, it might have just been a trick of the light.

We were silent again, just watching one another, knowing that though we were strangers, there was now a connection between us. Two lost souls on the road, both of us trying to find some kind of answer, some explanation to why we had changed so much.

"I'm Jul—" I began, but she held up her hand, halting my tongue.

Shaking her head, the assassin dug out her car keys. "Don't bother with your name; I'll just forget it. I've been forgetting many things these days."

With green irises staring into mine, Nina murmured, "But you always do remember some things no matter how hard your mind tries to forget. And one day there won't be anywhere left to run from the memories."

I thought about Nina a long time after she drove away. As soon as she'd threatened me with my own knife, I knew instantly that the cold exterior was nothing but a charade, a mask for the true story that lay behind the hard glare. Nobody's born that hard-hearted and hostile like Nina after all; we just aren't. Something had to happen first to cause that terrible shift, and whatever that had been, Nina had been willing to hurt me to keep it hidden.

And no matter how crazy she seemed to be, I was actually glad I'd met this dangerous woman, for on that day I saw in Nina's eyes what I could have easily become: a cold-hearted wreck with nothing but vengeance and bitterness flowing in my veins. Something in her past had caused her to morph into this terrible being, and I did not want to follow suit. I didn't want to be like her any more than I wanted to be Jun, because, regardless of the fear and the danger in my life right now, there's simply much more to live for than just revenge. Hatred, vengeance, whatever—it consumes you. Nina proved that correct. And did I really want to be like that? It was difficult, but I was trying hard not to take the easy route and throw myself into a life of bitterness and regret, for there's simply too much beauty, too much hope.

Glancing up at the sky, which was quickly turning a vibrant vermilion with the oncoming sunset, I adjusted the backpack straps on my shoulders and continued onward, the black asphalt road stretching endlessly forward.


	13. Out of the Dark Mist

**Savor it: it's the final chapter. It's long, but I think you'll like it. Really late update, I know, sorry. It's just that I've been busy and preoccupied with school and tennis and people, not to mention my laptop was confiscated earlier. **

**Disclaimer: **As usual, the song lyrics and proverbs are not mine. They simply enhance the story. Also, obviously, the Tekken characters aren't mine; they're Namco's, blah, blah, blah.

* * *

_Please take this and run far away, far away from me_

**I am tainted.**

**The two of us were never meant to be**

_All these pieces and promises and left behinds;_

_If only I could see._

_Am I nothing?_

_You were everything, everything to me._

**And all that could have been**_…could have been…_

**Happiness and peace of mind were never meant for me**

_From "And All That Could Have Been" by _Nine Inch Nails

"…_There is a way out of every dark mist, over a rainbow trail" _–Navajo proverb

**Out of the Dark Mist**

A drop of frost clinging to the blistered, shifting sands of red—she did not belong. Red clay smeared the pale chest, blood on snow, a bleeding wound, scarlet streak on white canvas.

We stopped for several minutes to watch it, my mother and I. Stark white, the beak black and long, as were its legs, a deceivingly blank yet fierce gaze blazing in its dark stare. It was a beautiful bird, a kind I had never before seen in my seven years of life, and being a lover of nature I stood back and looked on in awe. Having grown weary of the violent gray falcons and red-tailed hawks that dominated Arizona's skies, I was drawn to the crane.

She bent her long neck forward to groom herself with an unmatched grace and fluidity. In a nearby tree, the ebony, gray-eyed crow squawked down at us, perhaps at the crane too, flapping its wings about. It cried out again in a seemingly jealous rage of its white-feathered counterpart, yet the crane merely ignored it.

"Ajijawk," Ama had uttered, and I was unsure if she was saying my name or simply labeling the bird before us.

"Cranes bring peace and hope. Every time I see them it brings me happiness. It is a joy I cherish."

As she'd said this, Michelle had been looking at me. Smiling up at her, I took her hand as the white bird took flight, the sunlight swallowing the pale body.

Later on, as the raven-winged crow still lingered yet in my mind, I asked my mother, "And what about crows, Ama? What do _they_ bring us?"

Michelle had replied, "All creatures have their faults, Aji—even that crane we saw—but every single one of them has their purpose on this earth."

"You didn't answer my question."

Hesitance. Would she give me honesty?

She then said, "Like their _ma'ii_ friends, crows are selfish and deceiving; you never know what they may bring."

She has never given me anything less than the truth.

"I don't think so. Everything has some bit of goodness in them. I know it."

My mother simply sighed. "Let us hope you are right, little Julia."

* * *

Michelle made one mistake in her life, and that was naming me after a bird of hope, a being of peace, because now all that followed my name was the darkness and the loneliness. A crow's cry echoed in my ears. 

Sometimes, when the nightmares became overwhelming, I would simply touch the ring around my finger. Fingering the small amber stone and then the cool silver band, I gained small comfort knowing that my mother's hands had crafted the ring; I had a piece of her with me at all times in a way.

But now as Jin's terrible dreams grew stronger and stronger with each passing night, neither memories of Michelle nor her ring were effective defenses against the demon. Seeing how I'd rejected shamanism at fourteen, what now did I have left to protect me?

Well…I had the black wolf.

Nowadays I had only to will the image of the black wolf to mind, and the demon dreams disappeared. Don't ask me how it worked, it just did. Even when it was daytime and Jin was far from my mind I conjured up the wolf anyway, for it gave me a temporary bit of safety and peace of mind. He was like that little stuffed toy you used to hold in your bed while the thunderstorms raged, or that soft voice in the back of your mind that would tell you that everything was going to be "ok"—even when you knew things would not be.

I guess it does sound a little bizarre now that I retell it to you: Julia Chang being comforted by a make-believe wolf that existed solely within the confines of her dark mind. Well, aside from the fact that I'm half Native American and believe in that stuff (you know, that "spiritual nonsense" the ignorant folks call it), I guess all I can say is that the mind finds ways to cope. Having known too many coyotes in my life, I welcomed a wolf warmly.

Wolf and crane, black and white. I guess the old saying could work: opposites attract.

Crane and coyote. Smiling bitterly, Jin entered my mind. Did everything end because we were so different, or too damn similar? I didn't really know. We'd both lost our mothers, we both loved the trees and the life in the land…but I was not a murderer. Blood did not stain my hands.

* * *

After about two days and the encounter with Nina, I found myself in a land flowing with forests and looming mountains, crisp mornings and quiet nights, a land of lush plains of grass and plum sunsets—Montana. It was so different from Arizona's calm, wind-caressed, red-sanded canyons and scorching heat. Montana was just like any other state I guess, but I loved it almost immediately. It was definitely better than Wyoming at least, for Montana was a tranquil place, and the people were kind and hospitable. The _dzil_, mountains, which seemed to reign the skies, possessed a quiet majesty to them, yet a powerful gaze that commanded one's respect; they glared down at you, cold beauty sending whispers of awe up the spine. Endless forests flanked the feet of these mountains, their leaves painted with the dawn, and the stars in their sable sky shined shamelessly. I hadn't known that such pristine beauty still yet existed in a world taken by pollution and riddled with devastation. Here in this place Montana seemed untainted still, a haven for my poisoned heart. 

Once I'd arrived I had spent hours just exploring these sites, and for a brief moment all worries vanished and the crane within me resurfaced. It was as if the past had been but a bad dream.

Around nine a.m. I checked out of the motel and headed for the nearest restaurant, a tiny, family-owned Thai café. Ordering a small bowl of lob and rice, I stared out the window at those silver mountains. Gazing out at them I was taken by a sudden sense of loneliness, and unexpectedly my heart recalled the joyful moments I'd shared with Jin. Don't get me wrong: I still did not love him, but that didn't stop me from mourning our failed relationship and lost trust. I knew he was a good person, at least at one point, and I wanted so hard to believe that he had not been himself when he'd followed Heihachi and his father into Arizona…

But the heart cannot grow stronger, cannot move on, if it lingers too long on the past.

So, chopsticks in hand, I continued to pick at my food, pushing away those mountains and memoirs of a love lost.

As I was digging into my backpack for money, the waitress, a small, pretty Thai woman stopped me with a gentle hand to the shoulder.

"You're not from here are you," she said, and it was more a statement than a question. Her eyes were friendly, warm, but they also possessed a voracious curiosity that I instantly disliked. Now I knew how Nina had felt like when I'd rudely attempted to pry into her personal affairs.

"I'm from Arizona," was my reply, which came out like a grumble.

"Hot place, huh?" I think she meant the weather.

"Yeah, real hot."

No matter how nice this lady seemed, I was in no mood for a conversation; in fact, I'd become even quieter than usual, anti-people more like. I didn't know what was wrong with me, didn't know what had suddenly awakened this hostility and reclusive nature. A week ago, around the time I'd met Paul, I would have done anything for simple, pointless, idiotic dialogues such as this one. But right now I just wanted her to leave me the hell alone.

Perhaps Nina was rubbing off on me after all.

Drumming my fingers impatiently on the wooden tabletop, I itched for those forests again but forced myself to stay in my seat. Maybe if I was polite she'd go away.

The waitress sighed, running her hand through a shock of frizzy bangs as she relaxed. "Wish I could travel. Unfortunately, my grandparents own this place, and I have to work to help keep the business. I've always loved the city, and these forests are getting on my nerves."

No such luck. "I see."

"Yeah…I'm jealous of them, all those wanderers."

"Wanderers?"

"Yeah, wanderers. We get a lot of them around here. Montana's a popular path of travel these days. Real nice scenery, but really, nothing happens here, just a bunch of damn trees and a whole lot of silence. I can't stand it."

Gee, wish I had that problem.

"But those wanderers see everything! I swear, they're all either just too A.D.D.…"

I cracked a slight smile at this statement.

"…curious, just plain bored, or running from something."

The smile disappeared.

She poured me another glass of water then stared at me intently. Her eyes took in the simple clothing I wore, the rumpled backpack slumped at my side, the sleep deprived eyes, and the weary feet stuffed into a pair of tattered sneakers. Meeting her gaze, I dared her to keep staring, my eyes boring into her face in silent challenge. Satisfied, I noticed the blush rise to her cheeks as she averted her eyes.

"You're one of them aren't you?" she asked after a second, recovering from her embarrassment.

One of _them._ Ha. I guess I'm already a social outcast.

"Sure. You could say that." Monotonous, like an answering machine. Who was this woman speaking? Whose voice? Not my own that's for sure.

"Well then…what's _your_ reason?"

"A.D.D. I guess."

The waitress chuckled then, putting one hand on her hip as she stared out the window, sighing in longing.

"Yeah. Thing with these wanderers is that almost all of them don't want to tell the truth either. What have they got to hide anyway? I guess the road changes those people. Wish I could be like that."

"No, you don't," I replied with a humorless smirk, "there's nothing romantic or exciting about it in the slightest."

She had no reply for that one, so I deposited the bill and tip onto the table, then left.

* * *

I stayed in the sanctuary of the forests for a few hours or so, occasionally stopping to read my book under the shade of a tree, breathing in the air. I still couldn't believe how peaceful it was here. The tiny stripes of sunlight shimmering over my skin, the soft hum of the leaves as the breeze pushed through, the soft moans of the branches as the birds shifted their weight. Maybe this was what Michelle was talking about, all of that beauty she wanted me to see, that light she wanted to show me. Sure, Arizona's beautiful; my home has a harsh, coarse kind of loveliness, but these trees, this forest…it was something else altogether. 

But as the dark descended a different world settled in, and I decided to head back and found a motel to spend the night.

It was a decent room I guess, with its hospital white walls and artificially scented silken lilies, yet I barely noticed as I changed into my shorts and tank top, my makeshift pajamas for the time being. Removing my contacts, I sighed in content as I settled the familiar glasses onto my nose. The only lighting now came from the TV, illuminating a blue-white glow onto all that it touched, and burrowing into the covers I began to half-heartedly watch some depressing documentary about WWII.

I began to doze off when suddenly the TV shut off, cloaking everything in darkness, and I wouldn't have panicked had it not been for the sudden chill that enveloped the motel room. Scrambling out from under the blanket, I seized the buffalo knife in one hand, muscles tensing as all my senses went on full alert. My vision being impaired with the pitch darkness (and the lack of glasses), I relied heavily on my ears.

Suddenly, an ear-splitting shriek pierced the cold silence of the room, and I swallowed my own scream, hand tightening around the little dagger as I felt my breathing come in ragged, staccato bursts. With the blood pounding in my ears and the hairs on my arms and neck rising, I knew I was not alone…

And then, from a little ways in front of me in the darkness, a pair of crimson orbs glowed. The TV instantly came back on and its blue-white light revealed the creature I had known was already there. Scrambling, I managed to shove on my glasses, and the world came into focus.

Jin's eyes returned to their normal hue, and I saw that his bare chest and hands were spattered with blood. And then I noticed the dead man at his feet, his throat torn out, glass eyes open in a frozen mask of shock, mouth slack in a silent, strangled death cry.

You would think I would be used to carnage such as this by now. And yet I still found myself backing up into the wall behind me, my gaze never leaving Jin's. He approached, a bloody hand outstretched to me, but after a moment seemed to take notice of my fear and reluctantly lowered his arm.

"This man sneaked into your room before you came here. He had a gun in his jacket," Jin said solemnly, dark irises flashing a momentary scarlet, "he was going to rob you, then kill you, perhaps worse. Beautiful woman like you, he definitely would have done worse."

"So what do you want? A thank you?" I murmured, a small bit of the courage returning.

Jin was silent but I sensed the fury behind his stoic front.

"Or your love would be nice," he murmured, and I bit back a laugh.

"I liked it better when you came to me in dreams," I stated, and a cold smile stretched across his mouth.

"But your mind has grown strong, Julia. I can no longer penetrate it as I used to."

"Indeed," I retorted as images of the dark wolf played across my eyes, "You're losing your touch. You can't hurt me."

"Is that so?" he whispered, and suddenly his hand lashed out, taking my wrist in his hand. Blood red irises, fangs unsheathed and dark tattoos etching across his forehead, he pressed me violently up against his chest, and I could smell the forest in him. Wild, savage, inhuman.

He'd told me once, even in his demon form, that he would never hurt me no matter how badly he desired me. But now, as I fought to be free from his grasp, I knew that Jin had given himself to his father's curse.

"I'm sure I can find other ways to penetrate you," he smiled, and his icy hands became bolder.

"Fuck you," I cried, and plunged the knife deep into his chest, the hilt nearly disappearing into his skin.

Jin grunted, stumbling backward as blood spilled from the stab. But, eyes glowing still, he began to laugh, then removed the buffalo knife and flung it away. I watched in horror as the wound began to heal, closing in on itself as the flesh became as whole and as flawless as before.

"It will take more, much more than that, Julia, to get rid of me. For I love you too much," he murmured, eyes crimson once more.

"Then do it, Jin, make me yours. I'm here, damn it! I'm here and you're stronger, so what are you waiting for?" I growled, fists clenching.

He smiled maliciously then, running a long, cool finger down the side of my face, and I couldn't help but flinch as his touch burned my skin; a frostbitten kiss.

"Because I don't like to force you. If you join me, in time you will learn to love me, and together our hearts will once again be whole. But we can't accomplish that if you fear me."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Jin's face remained expressionless. "Being a demon isn't so bad, but it does get lonely sometimes, out here in the darkness…"

"Oh please. Don't give me that bullshit."

Jin laughed, shaking his head. "That's what I adore about you, Julia. You have that spirit, that gentle yet fierce and untamable fire within you that fuels your heart and keeps you running from me. I admire your strength, little bird."

His face became grim, a shadow falling over his pale cheek. "But a flame cannot burn forever, especially with a storm chasing at its heels. And once that flame dies, Julia, you're mine."

Then I shall forever keep it burning for both our sakes.

Spreading ebony wings, Jin whispered, "I'll be waiting for you."

With that, the dark creature took flight and disappeared through my window, taking the man he'd killed with him.

It was strange for after that night I did not see Jin again for a long, long time. He no longer haunted my dreams, nor did he confront me in physical form. Occasionally I would feel his presence, but it was faint, like the fading tendrils of a nightmare as the mind awakened from slumber. He kept his distance for so long that at times the fear was almost forgotten.

Almost.

There was no other option; I had to keep running, even if it meant for eternity. I had to show Jin that I was strong still, that I would forever resist him. For no matter how beautiful and enchanting Montana seemed to be, I would find no true peace here.

* * *

It reeked, the sweat and the blood, the scent of broken hearts and sweet victory long after the lights have faded. The taste of adrenaline, of the speed and the mothball mouth guard pressed up against your teeth—tastes like heaven. Disco-ball, all those colors and speckled lights, the little iridescent mirrors (everybody's watching), the nausea and then relief as you claim the win, applause, bow, next. And perhaps sushi afterwards, a bit of laughter and tequila ice cream on the side; or maybe tears, hot and bitter. Depends. This thing can be unpredictable. 

I was in Tokyo today. Yesterday was Shanghai, and the day before that, Calcutta.

The leather gloves felt like sandpaper as I slid them on, and the long golden feather scraped like a dull knife across the back of my bare neck. Breathing deeply, I inhaled the dank, musty smell of the locker room, closing my eyes in an attempt to concentrate. Beads of sweat had already formed on my brow, and the far off cheers of the crowd sent my stomach churning.

My first fight was ten minutes away and it was an automatic forfeit if you didn't show up on time. I had managed to catch a glimpse of my opponent—some redheaded rookie from Finland that had never even been to one of these tournaments before. She couldn't have been more than seventeen years old and had looked as panicked and frightened as an insect caught within the sticky entrapments of a spider's web. I shouldn't have been worrying.

But I always did. It's sickening.

_Come on Julia, you idiot, you've done this twice before. It's the fifth tournament; for the Spirit's sake you should be used to this by now. She'll be an easy win. Just relax._

Taking a gulp of water, I strapped on the multi-colored, beaded headband about my forehead, flaunting my culture and the pride of the Navajo. Being one of the few Americans (and, sadly, the sole _Native_ American) here at the tournament, I had to show off my nationality a little. Of course I wouldn't step outside and wear these kinds of outfits in everyday life, but my combat clothing gave me an identity within the throng of the hundreds of foreign fighters. I was one of the best after all, top thirty in fact, one of the few rare female combatants allowed to compete against males, and I'd already left my mark in these tournaments twice.

And still I worried as if I was just a beginner.

A gaggle of giggly girls suddenly barged into the locker room, disturbing the stillness and my concentration, and I groaned inwardly, despising such immaturity. Turning my back, I continued to prepare for my fight, sliding on the knee-high boots, clasping the turquoise and beaded jewelry about my neck, then braided my hair into one long pleat.

"Oh, he is like, so fine!" one cried, jumping up and down.

"We go to school with him!"

"Duh."

"Well, like, ask him out!"

"Shut up, Miharu! I barely know him!"

"He is so damn gorgeous!" came another, and they agreed in unison.

The squealing and shrieks of adoration continued, and I was about ready to shoot myself. Slamming my locker shut, I turned to face them, jamming the mouth guard into my mouth in fear of yelling obscenities into their pink little faces. I never got a glimpse of the leader for she was well guarded by her pigtails posse, but I was glad, for I feared that I might have smacked her for bringing in this ridiculous pack of hyenas.

"Have _you_ seen Jin Kazama?" one girl asked, eyes wide and a crazy grin twitching at the corners of her lips.

So it was _he_ that they were talking about, the fighter from Japan, son of the tainted Kazuya Mishima and grandson of the hated Heihachi Mishima. From what I'd heard, he was an amazing fighter, never lost, and he'd won all the previous tournaments…yet I had never seen him. The whole time I'd been either too busy trying to spot Heihachi, too determined to win, fixated on forest restoration—or, unfortunately, I'd already been eliminated from the tournament. During that time, Jin Kazama had almost never crossed my mind in the slightest.

I shook my head no.

"Really?! Whoa, you should really take some time to watch him."

Unable to stand it, I spat out my mouth guard. "I'm not here to stare at men. I'm here to fight and defeat them. But there's a male strip club down the block from here if you're wondering."

Shaking my head again, I stalked out, leaving them staring behind me. In the distance I could hear the muffled cry of the speakerphones: "Jin Kazama wins!"

What else is new?

My first fight took place in a parking lot believe it or not, with the judges and referees on the sidelines. Basically there were almost no rules. Just as long as you didn't kill one another you were fine, but really, in Heihachi's tournaments anything goes.

The lights were so bright. Michelle's teachings echoed throughout my mind, the desire to win was overpowering, the adrenaline building, heat rising and muscles aching, the taste of salt and victory on my tongue…seize it. It's mine today.

"…versus Julia Chang from Arizona, U.S.A.!"

Exhaling deeply, I let the world disappear, and in front of me were only my fists and my opponent. I didn't even hear the referee as he gave his consent for the fight to begin. All I felt was the world flying by as my body did the talking, as I conquered my opponent, the lights and the sounds spinning, spinning, spinning…

* * *

I remember that fight had lasted only a few minutes before I'd knocked her unconscious. It'd only been the first round too. I'd even felt sort of bad for the kid, me being twenty and experienced, and she barely seventeen and a first-timer. For the next week I'd proceeded to the higher levels, going on to win five more fights, but then got eliminated the third week of the tournament. Hanging my head in shame, I'd grudgingly returned to Arizona…and then Mexico… 

Closing my eyes, I recalled everything I'd experienced in that fifth tournament; my body ached for the sweet release of combat again, the familiar sweat and blood and adrenaline, then the rush of pride and joy when the fight ended as victory was claimed. It had been months now since I'd had a real fight.

Lately, I've been remembering a lot of things. It was like my mind kept recycling old thoughts over and over, reminding me of my past, the past that had led me here into this cold motel room bed, into the arms of nothingness. For without the past, there is no present. There is no future. It is the past that helps to mold us, for we are malleable. We like to think that we are unique, forever resilient, like the quiet rocks at the bottom of the stream, repeatedly crushed and smoothed over with water. But we are malleable. I was strong, still am, was resilient, but had managed to change so much over the past month or so that I sometimes didn't notice anymore. Even the rocks clinging to the bottom must surrender to the water's wrath sooner or later, their rough edges becoming smooth.

My mind kept on remembering, kept me aware, and even the littlest, most insignificant things were important. Everything mattered. Everything that had ever happened to me had taken me here. But what bothered me the most was that I would always wonder what I could have done differently to change things.

Some say things happen for a reason. Or maybe not; maybe I still have a choice.

Deciding I had lingered long enough in one place, I grudgingly left the motel the following night, heading reluctantly for the road that would take me away from Montana and its ethereal scenery. As it turned out, my leaving was a mistake, for nearly an hour into my walk the first raindrops began to fall. They became a thunderstorm after that, and lightning tore up the sky, screaming rage and sorrow into the clouds as it forced the rain down. Long and dismal, the road had absolutely no sign of civilization on either side, and I was forced to keep walking.

And, knowing my luck, there were no cars that night; the road remained void of anything but the river of rain and my drowned out footsteps. The sky, a gaping mouth, darkened as a horde of gray clouds stumbled in from the east. Pulling my red sweatshirt closer about me, I tried in vain to keep out the vampire kiss of the rain as it sucked the warmth from my body. Drenched sneakers and clothes, hair plastered to my face, and water-spattered glasses—I could barely see the road ahead of me.

That was when the possibility hit me: I was stranded. It was possible that I was going to die here on this Montana road, and I'd never even seen that light I'd been seeking. I was going to die within the fury of this thunderstorm, alone and lost, a failure, and Jin would triumph, claiming me as his own, come and devour the fire within, reducing me to no more than a cold memory drifting, forgotten, on his dark wind.

Halting on the side of the road, I knew it was useless. Not knowing what I was waiting for, I waited anyway, hoping for a passing vehicle to come and save me from this storm. There was still some fire left to spare…

Yet the road remained empty and the hope continued to wane.

Swaying slightly, nearly collapsing to my knees from the cold and exhaustion, I found that I could not move any farther.

* * *

"Get up, Julia…_get up_!" 

With blood pooling in my mouth and dripping down my chin, I staggered to an upright position and raised my fists, staring at my mother through blurry vision. I was so near that darkness, that sweet, merciful unconsciousness that would tear me away from the pain and Michelle's brutal training. But something kept me alert and standing, some ridiculous will that maintained the fight in me.

"All right. Now what, Julia? What's your next move? Show me."

Swaying, I nearly collapsed again.

"Julia, you must fight the pain! Ignore it. There will be times when you'll have to keep fighting no matter what happens, no matter how much it hurts. Every move you make must be precise; it must have a purpose."

Gritting my teeth, I willed the strength back into my body, wiping furiously at the blood on my mouth. Michelle's punch had not been restrained like in our previous sparring sessions; today she'd finally revealed to me that fierce warrior within her that she'd been concealing this whole time.

And, being fifteen and not fully trained yet, I wasn't sure I liked it. When she fought it was as if she became a totally different person; "tough love" is an understatement in this case. But that didn't deter my will.

Brushing back a few stray bangs, I lunged, fists at the ready. Almost instantly, I saw my mother prepare for her defense, elbow lifting…yet at the last moment I dodged her blow, feinted to the left as she swept air, then released a kick to her shins then abdomen. Grunting as the wind was knocked out of her, Mom doubled over on her knees, clutching at her stomach.

Once she'd recovered slightly, she flashed me a proud grin, winced, then got up.

"Well done. You conquered the pain. I think you've just won your fight," she wheezed.

I nodded, then keeled over as my body surrendered.

* * *

Rising stiffly as the memory faded, I began to walk again. 

An hour must have passed, perhaps more, and when I nearly succumbed to the rain again, an image of the black wolf flashed unexpectedly in my mind. His golden eyes peered at me, forcing my gaze to meet his as he nuzzled my shoulder gently…

_Get up, Julia. Get up. _

In the next moment the wolf vanished and was replaced by the distant moaning of a motor—and, to my disbelief, the faint blur of white headlights. Believing myself to be hallucinating, I blinked several times, but when the light did not disappear, I knew my chance had come. The headlights, glowing with a blinding radiance, increased in size, inching closer and closer.

Looking up just as the motorcycle passed me by, its driver flashed me a brief, indifferent glance. Biker goggles shielded his eyes from the relentless downpour, and his hair was drenched and plastered to his face. The leather gloves and jacket made me groan slightly in disappointment. Please not another one of those damn Wyoming bikers; I'd had enough of those.

However, he was the only sign of civilization for miles, and in this storm I'd take anything. So with the desperation and all too familiar chill tightening its hold about my body, I ran into the road, the rainwater splashing about my legs and soaking through to my skin.

"Wait!" I cried out into the night as I stared hopelessly at the receding taillights, and I knew he'd already gone.

The tears threatened to fall as I retreated back to the side of the road where I'd come. Knowing I would have to somehow wait this thunderstorm out, I hugged myself tight and tilted my head back to the rain, feeling the drops slide down the sides of my face as I surrendered myself to its cold caresses.

Just as I was beginning to close my eyes, the sound of the motor returned, growing louder and louder above the din of the storm. Eyes widening, I realized that the biker had returned. Hope leaped up to my throat once more, yet my body was frozen stiff to the point where I could only stare dumbly at my savior.

"Hey! You need a ride?" he shouted, and it took me a moment to process his words.

An image of the black wolf appeared again before my mind's eye, the golden eyes and familiar dark pelt replacing the biker…then all returned to normal. Shaking my head to clear my mind, I wondered if I was coming down with something.

Finally, in response I nodded, having not the energy to find my voice. After adjusting my backpack securely into place, I swung my leg over the bike and took my place behind the biker, waiting for him to accelerate. Keeping my hands to myself, clutching the bottom of the leather seat, I decided against holding him about the waist. We were complete strangers after all.

My rescuer turned around in his seat then, and behind the rain-spattered goggles I saw his eyes narrow in interest as he examined his passenger. The dark eyes were uncomfortably curious and bold as they roved up and down my body, stopping at my face, where the biker stared long and hard. Why did I always seem to attract perverts?

However, being in a vulnerable state and knowing that now wasn't the best time to pick a fistfight, I settled for the traditional glare. Clenching my teeth to curb the anger, I pulled the red sweatshirt hood farther over my head in an attempt to hide my face as well as protect it from the rain.

It seemed to work, for suddenly the look on his face changed to one of surprise. But then a wry smile twisted his mouth as he shook his head, amused.

What had I gotten myself into?

"Yeah you might want to hold on. It can get pretty slick," he suggested, then smiled once more. I returned his expression with another glare, but reluctantly clasped my arms about his waist as he turned around in his seat.

Well, let's just say that those were some of the best set of abs, ones that, shockingly, rivaled Jin's. Even through the leather jacket I could feel the biker's strength, could almost envision the toned perfection…but I quickly shoved the thought away, as well as the temptations to run my hands over the taut stomach. As a result, my hold on him loosened.

Unfortunately, he noticed, for as soon as my arms did so, the damn bastard accelerated. Sending the motorcycle flying forward, he forced me to cling to his waist for dear life as the rain pelted around us, his laughter resounding in my ears. Gritting my teeth, I reluctantly tightened my hold and tolerated his immaturity, knowing that it didn't matter too much anyway. Once we reached shelter I wouldn't be seeing any more of this jerk.

He drove for about another several minutes before the dim lights of the green-painted motel appeared. Rundown, isolated, the neon sign flickered "open" a couple times, then sputtered and died. As we pulled into the parking lot, the man turned to me again.

"We're stopping here for tonight. You're on your own from now on," he grunted.

I nodded again, muttered a half-hearted "thanks" then hastily got off the drenched motorcycle, feeling his prying eyes on me again as I entered the motel. Unfortunately, the biker followed me inside.

Clutching my backpack tighter about my shoulders, I stared at the desk clerk, hoping he'd skip the stupid introductions and hospitality crap and just give me a room. He was a heavy-set man, the front of his shirt stained with what I hoped was barbecue sauce, and spoke with a heavy German accent.

"Well, I've only got one room available. Are you two together?" he rumbled, inclining his head towards the biker behind me.

Glancing at him, my rescuer answered, "Not really. Are there two beds?"

The man at the counter nodded, then burped and I looked away in disgust. Thank the Spirits there were two beds!

After a moment of struggling to bend over to open one of the drawers, the desk clerk handed each of us an ancient looking key, the silver licked with edges of rust. Trudging down the hallway, he then showed us to our room.

"Enjoy your stay," he grunted, then retreated back the way he'd come.

I sure would. Sighing, I barged into the room, flinging my backpack onto the nearest bed. Sighing wearily, I started to remove my drenched sweatshirt, nearly forgetting about my newfound acquaintance. Halting, I turned to him and noticed how he lingered in the doorway, those eyes staring unashamedly at my body once again. Pulling down my sweatshirt, I flashed him my steely gaze.

"You mind?" I snarled, turning to face him.

The man smiled that cocky grin once more, then pushed his goggles up so they rested on the top of his head. Even in his grungy, drenched state, I suddenly found myself breathless for a moment; he was attractive, to put it simply. He looked about the same height as Jin, but his physique, unlike the bulky build of the Japanese man's, was leaner, tapered at the waist, yet still muscular and strong at that. Dark, curious, his eyes gleamed with mischief, a sly, playful curve tugged at his mouth, and the long locks of hair, stained previously a dark auburn, had begun to dry. It now shone a deep, fiery scarlet, and a few stubborn strands fell down to cover his eyes—crimson rose petals, a bleeding wound, a flame in the darkness.

Scarlet paint on white canvas.

Shivers, whispers of something foreign in my heart; there was a wildness within him, rebellious, turbulent, an untamed spirit that made me want to repel him—yet at the same time lean in for a closer look.

The little white moth drawn to the candle's flame—would I risk the burn? Or could I swallow the light, devour this heat? Oh Julia, you poor fool.

Unlike Jin, the calm before the storm, this strange man before me _was_ the storm.

Unzipping his leather jacket, he tossed the rain soaked thing aside, revealing a simple white T-shirt beneath that didn't do much to disguise every perfect contour of his upper body. Biting the inside of my cheek, I forced myself not to blush and kept my defiant gaze in place.

"What?" he said, feigning ignorance at my last inquiry.

Setting aside the undeniable fact that he was a looker, I reminded myself that he was still a stranger, perverted, arrogant, and was not to be trusted. I felt the old anger returning, the familiar caution, and there was that hint of a smile on his lips again.

"I'm sure you've seen lots of girls before, but I'm just not one of those who'll spread her legs at the sight of any decent looking guy," I growled, "Now, do you mind not looking at me that way?"

The red haired man pressed his lips together, probably in an attempt to suppress another sick smile, then replied, "Sorry."

We stood there for another moment, the biker with his wolfish grin and me with my quavering glare. My mind, the same mind which had saved me numerous times, the one that had screamed for me to flee Mexico, was sending out warnings now, urging me to abandon this motel and seek shelter elsewhere lest I become hurt again. It warned for me to keep running, to ignore my attraction to this stranger, told me that my main priorities now were to avoid petty temptations, to disregard trust…

Indeed, my new roommate was not to be trusted in the slightest. Yet my heart, the same heart that had led to my mother's and cousin's downfall and Jin's demonic infatuation, triggered the curiosity within, murmured gently for me to stay for just a bit longer, fed the fascination.

And, almost always, Julia Chang listened to her heart before her mind.

In the distance, I thought I heard a wolf howl into the night…

"My name's Hwoarang by the way."

* * *

The rain murmurs against my skin, feather-soft, kissing the cold onto my mouth and hands. Time to purify, time to forgive. Time to hope again. Time to set aside the wounds and inhale the light. 

I have tasted this rain before: bittersweet, tender, fresh, of corn tortillas and old love, of a crimson-haired man, that heartbreaking smile and those gentle hands—of a crimson-eyed demon, frostbitten mouth and poisoned soul. Of turquoise paintings and coyote smiles, the melody of the wolf and a white crane's cry. Memories: memories of a time past and a time beginning, of Navajo prayers and flame-licked dawns, forests of forgiveness and visions of hope on a blank canvas. Paintbrush quivers, the colors flow, unknown, unstoppable, unpredictable…and they live on. Bloom.

"_Don't ever be afraid to be alone, Julia. Sometimes we grow stronger when we're by ourselves…"_

Indeed, I found wisdom from my mother's words; I became strong with solitude. But I don't have to be alone, not anymore. I am no longer that child from the beginning of my tale. I had seen and felt so many things, things both terrible and joyful, experiences that had forced that shift from innocence.

Meeting him forever changed my life, for Hwoarang showed me many wonders, gave and taught me things that I would not trade for anything else in the world. It was while I was with him when I began to believe in fate. But soon Hwoarang would become something much more than a temporary sanctuary from Jin's relentless pursuit, much more than a companion from the past's regrets…

But the canvas has not yet been filled; the painting is far from finished. The crane has not yet conquered the coyote, nor has she heard the entirety of the wolf's song.

The story is still fragile. It has barely begun.

* * *

**Wandering, walking, drifting with the tide**

_Browsing, searching, _**finding our way through life**

_Whatever we find, it is all about to last for awhile_

_Just a better way to live on our place,_

_The place that we owe our lives_

_It's a fragile, small box._

_I feel like life is catching up _

_And _**the law of self-preservation is being broken**

_In the end we will give back._

_Wandering, walking, drifting with the tide_

_Browsing, searching, finding…_

_It's a fragile, small box._

_It's a fragile, small box._

"_Box" _by The Gathering

* * *

**Well, there it is, my version of Julia's story. However, it doesn't stop there; Julia's journey continues on in "Love Found" and I'll soon re-post chapter one of that story for those of you who are interested. I wrote "Love Found" a little over a year ago and was forced to delete it, (Long, ugly story, don't ask why I did it) and I'll re-post the remaining chapters after I've revised it. Why revise? Because a year is a big difference, and after rereading what I'd written at 15, I noticed my writing style has changed. So now I have a chance to improve the story. **

**Now I hope you think differently about Julia when you look at her. Too many times is she just called the "tree-hugger"; too many times do we see stories with Xiao and her annoying pigtails and her relationship with Jin. Julia is the intellectual! We need more women like her, not a world full of Xiaos where their smartest idea is to build the world's best amusement park. While Julia's fighting to protect nature, not to mention in college studying, Ling is off daydreaming about some ridiculous time machine and riding pink Ferris wheels…agh! Ok, I'll stop now. I get like that when I think about Xiao. **

**Thanks all of you who read this and contributed your thoughts and suggestions: wine and roses, xjmaster, Sachi G, Ichigo K, Mint Oreos, Hatori, Aki Ronin, Tay, RoguefanAM, InfinitiveEvil101, Keia101, and everyone else I missed. **

**I'm sad to see **_Wanderer_** end, because in my opinion, this is my best work out of all of my other stories, and it is by far my favorite piece. This will definitely not be my last Julia story!** _Sage Pagan_


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